Like Rocks Under Tide
by MandaPanda2
Summary: A long-kept secret crashes a birthday celebration.
1. Someone Else's Family Drama

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Aaron Spelling, E. Duke Vincent, Gary Tomlin, NBC, et al and are used here strictly for non-profit entertainment purposes.  
Rating: T  
Genre: Drama  
Spoilers: Everything through Episode 134, then it drifts into AU  
Summary: A long-kept secret crashes a birthday celebration.

* * *

 _A secret at home is like rocks under tide._ – Dinah Craik

* * *

Chapter One: "Someone Else's Family Drama"

 _October 30, 2015_

" _MO-OOOOOM_!" Olivia's eyes turned up, watching over the dark frames of her reading glasses as her youngest child burst into her office. "Did you remember to call Paulie? He knows to be at the club by 6, right?"

She sighed and pulled her hands back from the laptop's keyboard. "Evy, I'm working."

Her daughter's brown eyes rolled back in their sockets. "Mom, did you call him though?"

"Yes." Evy's sigh of relief consumed her as her head fell back, her blonde hair falling out of its lazy twist. As she turned back to the thin screen of the laptop, she saw her daughter lunge for her. She couldn't help but smile as Evy threw her arms around her, kissing her cheek.

"You're the best mummy ever!"

Now, she was the one rolling her eyes as she glanced up. While it was a silent regret that her thoroughly American children never called her "Mum" and "Mummy", her youngest child was the one quickest to affect the Queen's English…and usually when she wanted something. She was her father's daughter. She knew how to get what she wanted. "Thank you, darling," she said, kissing her daughter's forehead. "Now, I really need to-"

"Finish working. Blah-blah-blah," she groaned as she flopped down on the sofa. "Sheesh. Just as Dad _finally_ eases up with his work, you're head-down busy with yours!"

She let her silence serve as her answer. While Evy was laser beam focused on the party they were hosting for her eighteenth birthday, she was up to her eyeballs with the reports for the end of the fiscal year. "As soon as I'm finished, we're leaving for the salon," she murmured as she clicked through the spreadsheet's tabs.

"I think I'm going to wear my hair down tonight."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Ryan likes it down."

"I _see_ ," she teasingly.

"Don't tell Dad, ok?" Olivia's eyes closed briefly and she reached up, gently pulling her glasses off her face. Her daughter was laying on the sofa, holding up her iPhone as she swiped across its screen. Gregory was still _less_ than thrilled with the teenage boy Evy had been dating for the last year. She was surprised, to a degree. The teenage boy was clearly terrified in Gregory's presence and nothing but _overwhelming_ deferential to him. Despite his suspicions, she thought her husband would have appreciated the sometimes sickening respect Ryan showed him.

"It'll be our secret," she promised as she clicked the icon to save the spreadsheet before she pushed the laptop's lid closed. Evy grinned bashfully and nodded as she stood. Her daughter was completely smitten by the boy who'd become a daily topic in her life for the last year. Olivia watched as she stretched her arms overhead, yawning slightly. Suddenly, her throat seized as she was reminded of the significance of _this_ birthday. It was the last one Evy would celebrate at home with them. Next year, she'd be away at university.

"Mom? You ok?"

Olivia nodded and blinked rapidly as her daughter neared her, her expression melted into a question. Her eyebrow was arched, Gregory's brown eyes wondering back at her. She forced a smile and shook her head as her daughter stepped into her embrace. "Oh, nothing," she murmured into her daughter's hair. She inhaled, taking in the lingering scent of Evy's coconut shampoo. The teenage girl sighed as she tucked her head and turned her face into her neck.

Her eyes closed and she felt Evy's squeeze as she whispered, "I love you, Mom."

She nodded, inhaling sharply as she hugged her daughter closer. Her last baby was all grown-up. She opened her eyes, feeling the burn of unshed tears as she whispered, "I love you too, my darling." The air shifted and she glanced up. Gregory was standing in the doorway with his suit coat still on, but his tie loosened. She smiled up at him as he took a step into her office. She shook her head at the question in his eyes even as she cleared her throat and exclaimed, "You're home even _earlier_ than you promised!"

A crooked smile lit up his face as he sighed, "Transitioning to retirement is going far easier than we all expected."

Evy chuckled. "Obedience through fear, Dad. You terrorized so many people over the years, they're finally doing _exactly_ what you wanted them to do." He responded with a chuckle as he kissed her forehead. "Thanks for coming home early, Daddy."

Olivia watched as he cupped their daughter's face and looked down at her for a long moment. Her hand went to her throat as he leaned in and whispered something in their daughter's ear. Whatever he said made the girl burrow against his chest, her happy sigh filling the silence. She bit her lip, her fingers dancing against the cool pearls around her neck. Gregory watched her quietly over their daughter's head, a mirror of the emotions coursing through her. She inhaled sharply and nodded as she forced herself to say, "Evy, the salon."

"Oh! I'm ready. Let me just get my bag!"

Olivia stepped closer to Gregory as their daughter dashed from the room. _Let me just get my bag_ translated to her daughter not being ready to leave for at least another 15 minutes. She sighed as Gregory met her, his arms enfolding her a moment later. She rested against his chest, feeling the long-swallowed emotion finally break the surface. "How did 18 years go by so quickly?" she asked, reaching up to wipe away her tears.

A deep sigh was his only reply. "With them, it always did," he murmured as his hand ran over her hair. She looked up, recognizing the resignation in his expression. They couldn't keep their children the small children they once were. Now, with Evy, it was almost over. The last of their children was just a few short months away from leaving. She nodded and lowered her forehead to his chest as she gulped back a sob. It wasn't just Evy. Her damn emotions had been out of control for months. "Liv," he sighed.

"I'm fine," she insisted, shaking her head against his chest. "I…just-"

"I know."

She looked up slowly as he cupped her face. She sighed as his thumbs brushed her tears away. His frown exaggerated the age lines on his face and she sniffed. She couldn't let the both of them dissolve into wrecks. At least she could blame menopause for her emotional state. She forced a smile and turned her face, kissing his palm. "This is a good day," she said softly. She did believe that. Both of their two older children were in town with their families. It was the first time they'd all been together since Gregory's birthday in July. He sharpened his gaze and watched her closer, as if he doubted her attempt at optimism. She smiled and patted his cheek softly before she pushed her bare feet onto their toes and kissed his lips. "It is," she insisted against his mouth. "It wasn't all that long ago she was begging to have her party in Tahoe."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head as his gaze drifted towards the ceiling. She bit back a smirk. He had all but leapt for joy when Evy announced at the beginning of her senior year she instead wanted to have a Halloween-themed party at the country club for her eighteenth birthday. In fact, Olivia couldn't recall when she'd seen Gregory happier than when he left the deposit for the ballroom at the club. But, as Evy explained, it was the only way she could have all her friends and her nieces and nephews there at the same time. "Sean and Tanner stopped by the office for lunch," she heard him say and she looked up. She smiled at the mention of their youngest grandchild, a chubby-faced toddler with dark blonde curls and an infectious giggle. "I reminded him about meeting in the lobby for photos."

"Good," she sighed as she turned around for the large framed photo on her desk. It was from Gregory's birthday. In it, he was surrounded by their seven grandchildren, who had quickly become the lights of their lives. "Look how much Tanner has grown since July," she marveled as she turned the photo to him.

He nodded and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "What more could we ask for?" he asked, his lips brushing against her skin.

She smiled and nodded. He squeezed her shoulder and turned away, untying and slipping his tie from his neck. "Everything's confirmed at the club?"

He nodded as he sank into the sofa and tossed his tie aside. "Jennifer sent pictures of the decorations. I think it's macabre, but-"

"It's what Evy wants." She returned the framed picture to her desk and turned back to him. "At least she agreed to tone down the decorations so the little children wouldn't be frightened."

He shrugged and leaned back into the cushions. She sat on the arm of the sofa and combed her fingers through his hair. More and more silver flecked through his dark hair now. "Bad day?" she asked softly.

He shook his head as his eyes closed. "Not bad, just… _busy_." His arm tucked around her leg, his hand molding to her thigh.

She continued to comb through his hair and listened as he exhaled. She couldn't wait until he was officially retired. He had worked far too hard for too many years. "Is the transition really going easier than you thought?"

"Parts of it are." His voice was low and drenched in exhaustion. She frowned and was about to open her mouth when his eyes opened. "I had an interesting call today."

"Oh?"

"From Casey Mitchum."

She was silent for a half-beat as the name sunk in. "Alex's son?" He nodded as his fingers drummed a lazy rhythm on her inner thigh. "We haven't seen him since her funeral," she mused softly as she did the math in her head. Alex had been dead for ten years. "Where is he living now?"

He shrugged and continued, "Somewhere back East, I think. He said he was in town dealing with John's estate. He asked to meet tomorrow."

"Saturday?" she groaned. "Gregory, all the children and grandchildren are here. Tomorrow's our _only_ day with them. They're all leaving on Sunday."

"It was either that or tonight. He was rather insistent. Said something about only being in town a day or so."

She sighed and narrowed her eyes in thought as he looked up. "Tonight then." She glanced back at him, seeing the reluctance in his eyes. "Now. Evy and I are leaving to get our hair done. Caitlin and Shasta are already at the salon. Sean and Charlie are down at the beach with the children. So, the house is empty." He sighed deeply and half-rolled his eyes. "Meet with him now and get it over with," she sighed, reaching down for his hand. Their fingers laced together, a simple gesture which still managed to make her heart skip a beat. He nodded, squeezing gently, as she smiled. "Thank you."

* * *

Gregory stood at the doors, watching the patio through the glass. A brave seagull was tentatively walking across the stone, her head darting around. He chuckled to himself, realizing that since Evy's dog died last spring, they were seeing more birds on the patio. The small dog loved terrorizing the winged animals which dared to land within her domain.

The ice cube clinked against the glass as he sipped the scotch and glanced down at his watch. Olivia's promise came true: the house was empty. For now. With Caitlin and Sean's families staying with them for the weekend, who knew how long that would last? He sighed, already irritated. Estate management wasn't his area of expertise. Mentally, he was already preparing to refer Alex's son to one of his colleagues who would be better suited to answer whatever questions he had.

The melodic chimes of the doorbell echoed through the first floor and he sighed, relieved. _Finally_. He turned and strode across the living room, the clink of the ice cube mirroring his steps. He pulled open the front door and locked eyes with a man he hadn't seen in a decade. Casey's skin seemed permanently tanned and age lines crinkled from the corners of his eyes. His strawberry-blonde stubble was sprinkled with silver. "Hello, Casey," he said, shifting his tumbler to the other hand as he held out his right one.

Casey nodded, greeting him with a firm handshake and a terse, "Gregory."

He gestured the younger man in and closed the front door. "Drink?" he asked, leading the way into the living room.

"No. Thank you."

He glanced over his shoulder, trying to decipher the mysteriously tense expression on Casey's face. Perhaps he was taking John's death hard. From what he remembered from conversations with Alex, her ex-husband wasn't close to their only child. Still, death had the frightening power to change everything. "I'm sorry about John," he began, clutching his glass. "We hadn't been close in years, but-"

"He hated you."

Gregory paused. Casey's blue eyes were hard as he gazed back at him, unblinking. A moment later, he chuckled slightly as he responded, "That's probably true. I don't think he ever forgave me for encouraging Alex to request the Liberty stocks in her divorce settlement." It wasn't as completely selfish as Alex first suggested. While it was true that managing the company's business interests was easier with John out of the way, the stocks secured Alex's partnership stake and made her an independently wealthy woman. Not that money ever mattered to Alex, but at least she wasn't financially dependent on her miserable ex-husband. "Still, I was sorry to hear about his death."

Casey shrugged and glanced around the living room. "Well, when you're a 73-year-old man who goes mountain climbing in the Swiss Alps with your 25-year-old girlfriend, a heart attack is bound to happen." He nodded, the callousness of the younger man's tone swelling in the silence. Clearly, there was no love lost between Casey and his late father. He took a long sip of the scotch, watching as Casey wandered over to the mantle. He stood there for a long moment, slowly moving from left to right as he examined the picture frames. Olivia went out of her way to ensure the newest photos of their children and grandchildren looked down at them from the mantle. "Nice pictures," he said softly as he lingered on one of Caitlin, Sean, and Evy from his most recent birthday.

"Thank you," he said, making a point of glancing down at his watch. "Well, Casey, what can I help you with? I should remind you my practice is criminal defense, so estates and probate are beyond my scope."

Casey turned around slowly and dug his hands into his pockets. "It's personal."

His head tilted as those four syllables bounced ominously between them. "Go on," he said slowly, somewhat intrigued.

"I was in New York two weeks ago for John's will reading." He shook his head and chuckled sadly as he shrugged. "I don't know why I needed to be there, exactly. The only time John mentioned me in his will was when he said I was cut out of it."

He groaned inwardly. The last thing he wanted to do today was be caught up in someone else's family drama. Not on Evy's birthday. "That must have been difficult to hear," he said evenly. "Are you considering challenging it?" Was that what he needed help with?

"Not really. We weren't close. Besides, I haven't depended on his money since I was 18." He sighed and looked down. "But, then he explained _why_ I wasn't included." Gregory was silent, hoping his silence would bring the story round to its eventual conclusion. He watched as Casey looked up slowly, the oddly blank expression returning. "He said I wasn't his son."

He exhaled. This was…unexpected. "That's ridiculous," he insisted. "Alex wouldn't have lied about something like that." Alex had been a woman of few flaws. She wasn't a liar.

Casey sighed, long and slow into the afternoon. "Does lying by omission count?" he wondered aloud as he turned back to the photos. "If you're never asked about your child's paternity, it isn't really a lie then, is it?"

"Casey-"

"I have her things." The silence quaked and Gregory stood still, watching the younger man's back. "After she died, I had all her personal things shipped to my home in Islamorada. Some things were easy to look at and give to my wife or children. Some things weren't…like her journals." He turned slowly, rotating perfectly like a hinge on a door. "Until John's will reading, I would never have dared to read them. In the ten years since she died, I hadn't even peeked." He took a half-step closer as he continued, "But when I got home from the will reading, that was the first thing I did. I sat in my shed and read them all, cover-to-cover." His face imploded into a frown, his brow furrowed deeply. "Did you know?"

Gregory shook his head. "Alex never confided this to me." For a half-second, he wondered if perhaps Olivia knew something about this. Even though Alex had started off as his friend, she and his wife had developed a cordial and somewhat close friendship over the years.

"You never knew I was your son?"

* * *

 _A/N: So, this story isn't *quite* a rewrite of my earlier story, Shattered. It just shares the same plot revelation._


	2. Masquerade

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Two: "Masquerade"

Olivia hung back, watching as Evy twirled around the dance floor with her youngest nephew and her boyfriend. Tanner, Sean's fifteen-month-old son, was in Evy's arms, but he was more fascinated by the piece of netting wrapped around her head to cover her eyes, some sort of modern version of a carnival mask. For someone who was insistent on all guests wearing costumes to her party, Olivia thought her daughter's was surprisingly simple. "Well," she heard Caitlin say as she collapsed into the empty seat next to her, "I am officially too old to be keeping up with Evy and her friends."

She chuckled and wrapped her arm around her eldest child, who shook her head as she gulped down a glass of ice water. "Ah, to be 18 again," she mused aloud, feeling the bass throbbing deep in her chest.

"Puh-lease!" Caitlin exclaimed as she straightened the braid of her white-blonde wig over her shoulder. "I could never be 18 now. It seems _so_ much harder."

"Mommymommymommy!" Caitlin's six-year-old daughter, Blake, came running over. The full skirt of her tutu almost overwhelmed the small child. But, she hopped from one foot to the other, an excited grin on her face. "Come dance with me and Daddy!"

Olivia watched her daughter force a smile over her grimace as she nodded. "Ok," she said brightly as she stood, scooping up the train of her ice blue gown. When she was five steps away, she glanced over her shoulder and sent such an expression of dramatic exhaustion that Olivia couldn't help but laugh. She stood also, smoothing out the skirt of her cocktail dress as she glanced around. The pulsating light show from the DJ's booth crackled around the ballroom, glowing on the dancing party guests.

She couldn't help the sigh of relief. Everything came together perfectly for Evy's birthday. Despite a last-minute hiccup at the salon, she and Evy made it home in time to change quickly before they got right back into the car with Gregory. Their daughter talked non-stop on the short drive through town, regaling Gregory with a minute-by-minute account of her problem with the stylist. She had to give her husband credit. He played along brilliantly, listening intently and nodding sympathetically during Evy's story.

That was _extremely_ unlike him.

She turned in a circle, looking for Gregory in the crowd. Normally, he would have teased Evy. He would have interrupted her story to argue the stylist's case – like the lawyer he was. When they were in the car, she let Evy's excited chatter carry them as she used the mirror in the sun visor to apply her eye makeup. At the time, she didn't wonder why he just let their daughter go on and on. Why he barely said anything. Why he accepted the gold crown Evy placed on his head without protest.

Her hand came self-consciously to the diamond tiara tucked into her own hair. Evy was adamant the costume requirement extended to all guests, including her parents. She swallowed as she spotted him on the other side of the ballroom, deep in conversation with Bette's boyfriend. The throbbing guitar consumed her as she crossed the room, bypassing dozens of teenagers and the wait staff.

 _Ex's and the oh, oh, oh's they haunt me  
_ _Like gho-o-osts they want me_

She reached out, her hand brushing against his as she moved to his side. Gregory glanced over, his arm immediately wrapping around her waist, as he smiled quickly and turned back to Henry. It almost felt the way it should, but it wasn't right. Somehow. She pressed against him, wishing that Bette would come off the dance floor to fetch her boyfriend. Hopeful, she peeked over her shoulder. But she wasn't able to see her friend in the dancing crowd. She bit back a sigh and turned back to Gregory and Henry.

Someone tugged on her hand. "Nana!" Michael, Caitlin's middle child, stood next to her. His small face and toothless grin peeked out from between the jaws of his green dinosaur costume. "Mom says you have to come dance if she has to!" he shouted as he struggled to pull her with him.

She started to shake her head when she felt Gregory's arm slip from her waist. "You heard him, Liv," he said in her ear, his voice raised over the music. Her eyes turned up to him, expecting – _hoping_ – to see a teasing expression on his face. Instead, she found a forced smile and his clenched jaw. He crouched down to their grandson and she heard him say to the child, "You take care of Nana out there for me. Deal?"

Michael nodded seriously and enthusiastically shook Gregory's hand. "Deal! I promise, Poppop!"

She watched as Gregory stood, avoiding the questions in her eyes. "Good boy," he said as he looked at her for a half-second before he turned away.

* * *

"What did he say?"

Casey sighed, leaning on the railing of the balcony as he heard Diana's question come out of the cell phone. "He was…stunned," he said as he rubbed his mouth, the stubble burning his palm.

"Seriously? Or was he just pretending?"

 _You never knew I was your son?_

He closed his eyes, recalling the way Gregory visibly stiffened. The way he took a step backwards – _away_ from him. The way he paled dramatically. He remembered being in the courtroom years ago when Gregory defended Ricardo. He had seen the man when he was on his game. That's how he knew Gregory was on his game when he first stepped into his home. But, his simple question knocked him off it. "No. No, he wasn't pretending."

Diana sighed, but said nothing else. He opened his eyes and gazed out at the hotel's manicured courtyard below his balcony. The precision of it nauseated him. He had a headache. He knew it was from hunger, but he just hadn't had much of an appetite over the last two weeks. Since New York. Since Mom's journals. Since he learned Gregory Richards was his father. "What are you going to do?" she finally asked after several moments of silence.

"I don't know," he admitted, rubbing his forehead.

"Well, how did you leave things with him?"

"I don't know," he repeated.

"Case!"

He narrowed his eyes and gripped the cell phone tighter. "I asked him if he knew I was his son. He said he didn't. That was it," he snapped.

"But, honey," she said, dropping her voice, "that's _not_ it. He's your father."

With a deep sigh, he stood tall and winced as the vertebrae of his spine popped. "Is he? All I have is one entry about my mother…and him…and one night." He frowned, embarrassed, as he recalled his mother's entry about her, Gregory, and a bottle of tequila while John was out of town.

"And," she interrupted softly, "all those other entries about him."

"They were friends," he argued weakly.

She sighed. "Honey, the way your mother wrote about him… It was more than friendship for her. She loved him. He…he was the one that got away."

He suddenly remembered being a small child, cuddled up against his mother. They were watching the late movie, something ancient with people who talked funny and wore old-fashioned clothes. But, he watched it because Mom loved it. It was one of her favorite movies. John traveled frequently, so it was usually just the two of them for long stretches of time. Even now, he could recall the way she silently cried as the singer with the powerful voice clasped her hands to her, singing about the loss of her love. At the time, with the innocence of a child, he thought it was because she missed John. But, it wasn't just a song to Mom. It was real. It was her life.

 _The dreams you dreamed  
_ _Have all gone astray_

Gregory was the one that got away.

"Di-" he croaked, gazing up at the moon.

"You need to talk to him again. You need to be sure."

"You think Mom left something out of her journals?" he asked, hopeful. Maybe there was someone else. Someone she didn't write about. Or, maybe there was a reference to someone else he and Diana missed when they tore through the journals.

"No, honey. I don't." He sighed as she continued, "But, for your sake, you need to talk with him and figure out where to go from here. Closure, you know?"

His sighed again, deeper, as he thought back to the photos lining the mantle. "He has children. Two girls and a boy." Just like him and Diana.

The line was quiet for a long moment. "Your…siblings?"

He felt bile rise in his throat. He remembered Caitlin from parties on the beach when they were teenagers. She had been a few years behind him in school, but they had friends in common. Had he ever flirted with her? Even casually? "Jesus," he gasped as he covered his mouth.

"Casey?! Are you ok!"

He sucked air into his lungs, forcing himself to remember his old breath training from when he got his lifeguard's certification. _Work your diaphragm, Mitchum_ , Chuckie would scream at him from the shore. "I'm…I'm fine," he forced himself to reply as he stumbled into the hotel room and flopped on the bed.

"You're not! I can hear it!" She swore and he closed his eyes, picturing the way she ran her hand through her dirty-blonde hair whenever she was frustrated. "I'm going to fly out there. I'll drive up to Miami so I can catch a direct flight and I-"

"You can't," he said, feeling the way the blood pumped through his body. "Tomorrow is Halloween. The kids will want to go trick-or-treating-"

"Allie is 15. She can handle walking Harrison and Nicola around the neighborhood. I'll call my mother too. She can drive down from Weston and stay overnight with them."

"Diana, please. Stay with them."

"I'm worried about you!"

"I'm worried about me too," he admitted, his elbow digging into the mattress as he held the phone to his ear. Maybe not the best answer, but it was the only one he could muster. "Listen, I will go back and meet with him. I promise. I think, right now, I…I just need to sleep. It's been…well, it's been a day."

"I want you to promise me. _Promise_ me you'll tell me tomorrow if I need to come. I don't want you staying out there for too long by yourself."

"Di, I grew up here."

"Promise me!"

"I promise."

The quiet swelled between them as they fell silent. "It's just…," she finally began quietly, "well, it's all different for you in that town now. Isn't it?"

He sighed. _Everything_ was different now.

* * *

Gregory pulled the crown off his head as he walked into the house and set it on his grandson's head. Greg grinned up at him, his eyes brimming with pride as he straightened the gift. "It looks good on you," he murmured as he patted the twelve-year-old's shoulder. His namesake.

"Thanks, Poppop!"

He stood in the foyer, looking into the living room. Charlie and his sons were on the sofa, the boys talking excitedly. Sean and his son, Owen, stood where Casey stood a few hours ago, playing some game with their fists. Evy stood in the patio doorway, Ryan's arms around her as they looked out at the ocean. Somehow, the teenage boy was convinced the party was continuing here. He rubbed his eyes and looked down. It was nearing one o'clock in the morning. He sighed and turned, hearing feet on the stairs. Shasta came down the stairs, pulling off her witch's hat. She smiled at him and explained, "Mom is telling the girls a story. She'll be down in a sec though. Hope and Delilah could _barely_ keep their eyes open."

He nodded and looked back into the living room. "They had a good time?" he asked, trying to recall which costumes his twin granddaughters wore. Princesses? Fairies?

"They did. They _worship_ the ground their Aunt Evy walks on and were so excited to be invited to her 'grownup' party." She beamed and turned to him. "It was a great party, Dad. Everyone had a terrific time."

He smiled slightly as she leaned in, hugging him quickly. "Some of them think it hasn't ended," he murmured, gesturing with his chin to Evy and Ryan.

Shasta followed his gaze and chuckled. "He's a nice boy. Evy could've done worse."

He said nothing as she moved into the living room, wrapping her arms around her son from behind. A moment later, he felt a cool hand slip into his. He stiffened. He knew Olivia knew something was wrong. He turned slightly, feeling the questions churning within her. Her makeup had faded, the tiara was gone, and she was barefoot. But, she was still in the silk dress she wore to the party.

"Dad? Mom? Ryan and I are walking down to Christian's. A bunch of people ended up there after they left the club." He heard Evy, but he didn't look up. He just nodded vaguely, seeing only the curious expression on his wife's face as she gazed up at him. He squeezed her hand as he led her slowly down the hall to his study. She stepped into the dark room and turned around as he closed the door behind them. Shadows surrounded them, untouched by the shaft of moonlight falling through the tall windows.

He felt her watching him as he stepped closer, shrugging out of his suit coat. "I need to tell you something," he said softly and she nodded.

"I know."

"I- _we_ needed to get through Evy's party," he explained. "I wasn't about to ruin her night."

She stepped closer and carefully looked up at him. "Tell me," she said softly.

So, he took her arm, gently guiding her to the one of the chairs. Then, he sat in the one across from her, their entwined hands in her lap. And, he finally told her of Casey's visit, John's will, and the question he asked him.

Her head tilted slightly as she gazed back at him, half-hidden in the shadows. The silence grew between them, churning within the vast room. He grimaced, feeling her hands twitch against his. After a moment, she leaned forward slightly, her face bathed in moonlight. Her expression was clear and still as she asked, " _Are_ you his father?"

He watched her closely as he replied, "I don't know."

She shook her head slightly and gently squeezed his hands. "But, you _did_ sleep with Alex. Why else…"

He was quiet for a long moment. Why else would Casey's question have thrown him? Why else would they even be talking about it? He nodded slightly and finally replied, "Yes." His stomach clenched as a memory flashed before his eyes. _Alex's long blonde hair falling around him as she leaned down and kissed him. Brian Wilson's sad voice and the melancholy melody in the background as he wrapped his arms around her waist and flipped her beneath him._

"After she married John?" He nodded and watched as she sat back. He didn't need the moonlight to see the thoughtful expression on her face. He could _feel_ what she was thinking. She was remembering a conversation they had years ago in the early days of their relationship. Thus, he wasn't surprised when he heard her say, "But, you told me you never had slept with her."

He sighed and lowered his head. He believed himself too omnipotent back then. He believed not answering her question truthfully was best for all of them. He believed she would never find out. He believed he could control everything. "It was one night," he forced himself to say. "We were drunk. She wasn't leaving John over it. I had other girlfriends. Almost three years later, I met you and…" He trailed into silence and looked off to the side. Years ago, he just wanted to avoid the inevitable questions which would come if Olivia knew he and Alex slept together. But now, here they were. Nothing is ever _really_ avoidable. Everything catches up to us in the end.

She leaned forward again and reached out, cupping his cheek and turning his face back to her. "And?" she asked softly as their eyes met.

"She was still my friend," he said simply. Maybe one of his only _true_ friends back then. "I wanted you to like her."

She sighed and looked down at her lap. A moment later, he watched as she chuckled softly and looked back up at him. The moonlight made her appear unnaturally pale as she shook her head and repeated, "You wanted me to _like_ her." Her one hand fell away from his cheek as her face collapsed and she rubbed her own forehead.

He gently entwined his fingers through hers as he repeated in a whisper, "Liv, it was one night."

Her eyes flew up as she lowered her hand. "Oh, darling…it wasn't just _one_ night. Alex loved you her entire life," she said softly as he sat back thoughtfully. "Surely, you knew that."

Didn't he? Didn't he somehow know that it wasn't _just_ a friendship between them? It was one night…and a lifetime of unresolved emotion. And, now, a child. A forty-something-year-old child. "I always knew she did," he heard her continue and he looked up. She sat still, watching him intently. "I always knew and yet…you wanted _me_ to like _her_."

He swore beneath his breath as he sighed. "Liv, Christ…it wasn't as simple as that. I wanted-"

"You wanted the both of us," she murmured as she pinched the bridge of her nose. He knew that Olivia wouldn't be able to be friends with Alex if she knew they slept together. She could be friends with his friend. She couldn't be friends with his former lover. "God, my head is pounding," she snapped.

"Please, look at me." He waited for the half-breath it took for her to turn her eyes back to him. "You're right," he admitted. "I _did_ want the both of you. I knew it was too much to ask – too much for you to like her _if_ you knew we slept together. She was-"

"Your friend," she finished with a sigh. She shook her head and looked away again. He reached out and slowly turned her face back to him. He felt her jaw tense as she asked, "Did you love her too? The way she loved you?"

Did he believe his marriage _so_ immune from old jealousies and hurt? They couldn't have had this conversation twenty years ago. Back then, they could barely speak to one and other. They were night-and-day different now. "I always wondered…suspected… _tortured_ myself by thinking about it," he heard her murmur and he looked down as deadening guilt weighed down on him. "Especially during those years when we were so broken and awful to each other."

He grimaced as he lowered himself to his knees before her, her knees and shins pressing against his chest. "I did love her," he admitted, holding onto her hips. Alex's smile and long strawberry-blonde hair whispered to him from the shadowy corners of his memory. "I think she may have been the first woman I ever did love." She sat so still that he wasn't even sure she was still breathing. He looked up at her, his fingertips pressing into the silk of her dress. Layers ripped away, decades of unrealized feelings throbbing in the exposure to oxygen. "But, what I felt for her _never_ came close to the love I have for you. _Ever_." His breath ran shallow as he clung to her, watching and waiting. Surely, she knew that? What they had…it was a life. A shared life. Something they built and which was theirs alone.

Several moments later, she nodded slowly and he released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He leaned back as she sat forward, her hand braced on his left shoulder, and stood. He looked up at her, the bewildered and lost expression on her face imprinting on his soul. "It's been a long day," she said softly. "I want to go to bed." He was quiet as she looked down at him for a long moment. Her face softened as she swallowed, her lips pressed to a line. He saw the age on her face in the unforgiving moonlight. In the way her shoulders caved in. Finally, she extended her hand to him. "Are you coming up?"

He nodded and pushed himself up, ignoring his screaming knees, as he took her hand. More than forty years of life, joy, and pain was reflected in her very existence. She looked at him briefly before she pressed against him, her arms around his waist. He closed his eyes gratefully as his arms enfolded her.

He could do anything – deal with anything – so long as he had her at his side.

* * *

 _A/N: The lyrics in the first part are from "Ex's & Oh's" (written by Elle King and Dave Basset). The lyrics Casey remembers are from "The Man that Got Away" (music by Harold Arlen, lyrics by Ira Gershwin)._


	3. Secrets

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Three: "Secrets"

Gregory slowly opened his eyes, feeling the ache in his knees wake him. He didn't feel his age. He still felt as vigorous as he always had…except for his knees. They felt _every_ minute of being 65. Not that his throbbing knees mattered. It hadn't been a restful sleep. He didn't even remember falling into the torturous sleep. Where he dreamed of Alex's blonde hair and the expression on Olivia's face. _You wanted the both of us._ He sighed, rubbing his face awake as he turned his head to his left. Pale grey pre-dawn light crept in from around the lazily drawn curtains, casting just enough into the room for him to make out his wife's form. She was laying on her back and he sighed. After more than forty years, he knew that was _not_ a position she slept in. She was awake too. "Did you sleep?" he asked softly.

She sighed, her gaze firmly fixed to the cathedral ceiling above them. "Not really," she murmured. "Dozed, I think…"

His breath caught in his throat as she reached out, her hand resting palm-up on his chest. He slipped his hand over hers, squeezing gratefully as she sighed again. Her fingers laced through his as she finally turned to him, their eyes meeting over the pale silk sheets bunched around them. "You were dreaming," she said softly. "What about?"

Her palm tremored as he replied, "You…and Alex."

Her eyes were steady as she watched him, but he saw the sad smile on her lips as she pulled her hand back. He watched, riveted, as she turned slowly onto her stomach and leaned up on her forearms. "You know," she began and his hand jumped as he resisted the urge to cup her face, "the only thing that gave me _some_ comfort when we were awful to each other was your determination. If there was something you wanted, you just _took_ it. You never denied yourself." She knew him. You don't spend nearly half a century with a person and not know every inch of them. The good. The bad. The unseemly. "Some part of me knew that if you _really_ wanted to leave me and marry Alex, you would have. She and John were divorced by then. She was free."

But, he didn't want Alex. She may have been his first love, but she wasn't who he wanted. He reached out, not able to hold out any longer. He needed to touch some part of her. To remind himself this was real. She inhaled as his palm molded to her cheek and her eyes closed. "That sounds sad, doesn't it?" he heard her ask, opening her eyes again. "The pathetic type of thought one only finds at the bottom of a vodka bottle."

He shook his head as she looked down, sighing deeply. In less than ten hours, old wounds had reopened. Reminders of those horrendous years when they acted more like enemies than lovers. When they openly betrayed each other instead of cherishing each other. The back of his hand followed the line of her jaw before he cupped her chin. Her eyes turned up slowly, the puffiness beneath her eyes exaggerating the exhaustion clouding her face. "Olivia, I wanted _you_. I _married_ you."

She blinked, watching him closely for a long moment. But, it was the truth. He never wanted any woman the way he wanted Olivia. She was the only woman he wanted to marry. The corners of her mouth curled as if smiling took too much effort. "Darling," she began softly, "did you really _never_ suspect he was your son?"

He fell quiet, his fingers still against his wife's face. After Alex married John, he didn't see her as much as he used to. Alex and John did the things married couples did with their married friends, while he spent his little free time with an ever-revolving door of girlfriends. After she became pregnant, they saw each other even less. Their paths stopped crossing as regularly as it used to until he met Olivia and settled down. But, did he ever stop and wonder about Alex's child? Did he ever wonder if their lack of contact wasn't _just_ due to his work schedule and bachelor's life or her family life? Did he ever stop and think the child was the reason why Alex faded to the outskirts of his life after she became pregnant? "Not really," he murmured. "Maybe once, for a moment, when she announced she was pregnant, but-"

"But?" He watched the calm curiosity in her eyes, the hazy blurriness as she tried to understand.

It wasn't a conversation. It wasn't a question he ever spoke aloud to Alex. _He watched her carefully, wondering, from across the table at the restaurant. She turned to him, still laughing at something the person next to her said, as she met his eyes. Her smile fell away from her face as her hand dropped to her still-flat abdomen. She tilted her head, her sapphire eyes dulling as she slowly shook her head._ "She just shook her head," he finally said, coming back to their bed and the feeling of his wife next to him. "I _believed_ her." An ugly feeling twisted in his stomach. He believed her. He didn't doubt her. He accepted her silent reply without a second thought.

She watched him for a moment before a lightness of realization overtook her expression. "You're angry. You're angry with _her_." He nodded slowly, giving into the sentiment that danced on the periphery since yesterday evening. Alex lied to him. The one thing he would never thought her possible of. She lied…and he believed her lie. He believed _her_.

Slowly, she curled against him, her body laying flush against his as she rested her head on his chest. His arm came up around her, cupping her shoulder as she sighed. "I can't stop thinking," she whispered after a heartbeat. "Casey..." He lowered his face to her hair, sighing. "He was in our wedding. Do you remember?"

He exhaled deeply, the memory slamming into him. Alex had been the only one of their friends with a little boy. She agreed for Casey to be the ring bearer when Olivia, who fretted about not having one for the ceremony, asked if they could borrow him. He closed his eyes, remembering the way the little blonde boy chased the flower girl, Olivia's cousin's daughter, around the banquet hall at the reception. "I remember thinking how darling he looked in his little suit next to Briony," he heard her murmur.

He squeezed her shoulder as she wrapped her arm tighter around his chest. "Part of me wonders if she didn't know…" he murmured beneath his breath after the silence became too much to bear. She said nothing and he glanced down, watching the top of her head. She lay perfectly still, but he heard the way the breath caught in her throat. He watched silently as she leaned up, a mysteriously blank expression on her face. But, her eyes were full as she met his gaze. "What?" he asked, his fingers grazing her jaw line.

"If she didn't know for certain," she said softly with an emotion he couldn't quite place, "she would have certainly _suspected_. A mother- a mother _knows_."

* * *

"Come on, Mikey! Get those knees up!" Evy called out as she led her nieces and nephews through a morning exercise routine on the patch of lawn off the patio. She giggled, watching as Blake's attempt at standing mountain climber was more like jumping up and down. The twins were no better, but what they lacked in form, they made up through enthusiasm. "Yes! Get it, girls!"

The French doors that led to the kitchen opened and Caitlin poked her head out. "Breakfast!"

"Pancakes!" Owen shouted as he ran away from the group, followed closely by Mikey.

She slowed to a stop, breathing heavily. "They forgot to cool down," she heard Greg say, making her smile. The little girls ran off too, shrieking about chocolate milk.

She threw her arm around Greg and led him back to the house. "Have I mentioned _you're_ my favorite?" she asked, ruffling his hair. He was though. While she loved all her nieces and nephews to pieces, Greg had been the first to call her "Aunt Evy". She was simply nuts about him and had been ever since the day her older sister gave birth to him. The twelve-year-old grinned and ducked his head as two pink spots materialized on his cheeks. "Our secret though, right?"

He nodded seriously and she followed him into the kitchen. She rolled her neck and adjusted the thin elastic headband holding back the flyaway wisps of blonde. "Where's Mom?" she asked, glancing around the kitchen. The kids and Dad were the only ones at the table, though he was engrossed in the _Wall Street Journal_. Sean and Charlie went for a run. Shasta was fighting to feed Tanner his breakfast.

He lowered his paper and she was surprised by how tired he looked. He was still in his robe, which meant he didn't swim laps in the pool like usual. "She's still sleeping," he replied, their eyes meeting briefly. She trooped over, using her t-shirt to fan her sweaty body.

"She wanted us to go get more candy for tonight. Mikey and Owen ate an entire bag yesterday."

Dad shook his head and turned back to the paper. "Don't bother her with that. My wallet's on my bureau. Take my American Express and pick up whatever you want."

She nodded and watched him for a long moment. He looked tired, but upset. He was frowning. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his shoulder. "Dad, is everything ok?"

"Fine," he said curtly as he turned back to his paper.

She stepped back, nodding. Her brow furrowed curiously, trying to remember if something happened last night. She had fun at her party as she danced the night away with Ryan. Her family had fun too. Didn't they? Her parents seemed fine when they got home. They barely batted an eye when she and Ryan left to go to their friend's house. "Pancakes?" she heard Caitlin offer and she shook her head. She glanced back at Dad, so beyond confused. "What's up?"

"Does Dad seem…weird?" Evy asked.

"I thought so too," she said softly, dropping her voice as she set the plate of pancakes on the kitchen island. She nodded as her older sister followed her to the fridge. "At first," Caitlin whispered, pulling open the double doors, "I thought it was because he was overwhelmed by all seven kids already going at 100% and he hadn't even had his coffee yet."

"No way," she murmured, reaching into the freezer side for the bags of frozen fruit. "He's a total goof around the midgets."

"Exactly." Caitlin sighed and glanced over her shoulder quickly. "I was going to ask Mom, but she's still asleep."

"Which is also weird." Evy gestured to the carton of almond milk with her chin and asked, "Grab that for me, will you?" She moved over to the corner counter where the blender was and spread out the bags. "Mom was so ridiculous about Dad and I not having plans for today because she wanted all of us to spend the day together. No _way_ would she sleep in."

Caitlin nodded, watching as she dumped handfuls of frozen greens, mixed berries, and bananas into the blender's pitcher. "It could be nothing though," she said softly, nervously smoothing out the plastic lock on the freezer bag which held the frozen pomegranate pearls.

She shook her head, unscrewing the cap on the almond milk. "I don't think so," she murmured, adding a generous splash. She reached into the overhead cabinet for the can of protein powder. She dropped a scoop into the blender and shoved the can aside. "Dad's in a bad mood. Mom's not down. Do you think that-"

" _Hi, Nana!"_

" _Nana, come eat pancakes with me!"_

" _Stop, Delilah! Nana wants to eat pancakes with_ _me_ _!"_

Evy and Caitlin turned, seeing their mother coming down from the back staircase. She was wrapped up tight in her robe, the maroon silk accentuating her alabaster flesh. "I thought you were sleeping?" she heard Dad ask.

Mom looked up, shook her head briefly, and resumed making her way around the table to kiss each grandchild's head. She watched as Dad folded his paper closed and stood, holding out his chair for Mom. It was the only one left at the table. She scratched the material of her running shorts nervously, watching as Mom slipped into the chair and Dad leaned over to place his hands on her shoulders. He whispered something in her ear, something that made her nod and turn her face into his.

"At least they're speaking," she heard Caitlin say beneath her breath. She nodded dumbly and turned away, her chest tight. Her older sister's expression was clouded with old anxiety, making her a shadow of her bubbly self. She sighed and looked down at the blender. No one really spoke about the years when their parent's marriage had been a total disaster. When they didn't speak to each other. When they fought. When Mom drank. But, she knew all about it. Just like she knew her own childhood had been considerably different than her older siblings'.

"Cait, where's the pancakes?" Shasta asked and her sister moved away, forcing a smile to her face.

She glanced back at her parents. Dad was still standing behind Mom's chair, slowly rubbing her shoulders. They weren't mad, she realized as she popped the top onto the pitcher and set it on the base. They were…sad. She sighed deeply and pressed the On button, letting the angry drone of the blender drown out her urgent questions and thoughts.

* * *

Casey walked out of the new Starbucks, holding his cup of coffee. Well, it probably _wasn't_ new. But, it was new to him. The chain coffee shop certainly seemed right at home in what used to be the Java Web. He sighed and crossed the street, heading to the pier. He always liked that spot. As he reached the other side, he stopped for a moment and turned his face up to the sun. The sun never felt the same way as it did here. Islamorada was as close to southern California as you could get on the East coast, but it still wasn't the same. He missed the balmy sun. He missed the Pacific. His kids thought the Keys were everything, but they didn't know what they were missing here.

 _"Casey? Casey Mitchum?"_

He opened his eyes and turned, seeing Sean Richards slowly jogging over to him. He inhaled sharply as the younger man neared him, his resemblance to Gregory impossible to miss. _Their_ father. An involuntary shudder went through him as Sean held out his hand, beaming. "Casey…Man, it's been a _long_ time."

He nodded and shook his hand briefly before he wrapped both hands around his over-priced coffee. "It has been," he said as another man with dark hair joined them.

"This is Charlie," Sean said, gesturing to the man at his side. "Caitlin's husband." All he could do was continue to nod as Sean handled the introductions while his stomach churned. Sean was his brother. His younger brother. "-in town for Evy's birthday."

He snapped to attention and forced himself to focus. "Sorry, a birthday?"

Sean chuckled and nodded. "Yeah. My little sister turned 18 yesterday. Our parents threw a big party for her at the country club."

Yesterday. His youngest sister's birthday was yesterday when he was dropping the bombshell on their father. Had he even met Gregory's youngest child? Maybe once, when she was an infant. He nodded stupidly, grateful that Sean and Charlie continued to chat away and didn't comment on his silence. Last night, he wondered what Gregory had done after he left. Now he knew. He had gone to the country club and celebrated his daughter's birthday. When he left Gregory, the older man was bewildered into silence. He wondered if he walked into his daughter's party that way – bewildered and silent. He wondered if Olivia knew something was bothering her husband. Diana _always_ knew when something was bothering him.

"So, what are you doing in town?"

Casey swallowed hard and forced himself to take a sip of the coffee. The hot beverage was like battery acid as it burned its way down his throat. "Just…just dealing with some family business."

Sean nodded as Charlie folded his arms against his chest. An awkward silence fell over them and he knew he should ask a question. _Any_ question. _Sean, where do you live now? How many kids do you have?_ It was the polite thing to do. But, he couldn't. He just couldn't do it. His brain was stunted, unable to command his mouth to move and or his throat to generate sound. "Well," he heard Sean finally say as Charlie looked down at his watch, "we'll let you get back to it then. It was nice seeing you again." He turned, watching as they resumed their run.

He watched them head back up-beach, the ritzy area of town where Gregory lived with his family. Diana was right. He did need to see him again. Nothing was settled and, for his sake, it needed to be. He couldn't keep living the way he had for the last few weeks. Confused, lost…and profoundly pissed off at his parents.


	4. By Omission

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Four: "By Omission"

 _How did we become so smart and learn to break each other's heart?_ – Carole Bayer Sager

"Nana," Delilah asked, tugging on her hand, "can I have another one?" Olivia nodded, holding the large bowl out to her granddaughter. With a smile, she ran her hand over the little girl's dark blonde curls. Sean had hair like that when he was a toddler, ringlets that went on for days.

The little girl looked up and grinned as she dropped the extra piece of candy into her canvas trick-or-treat bag. "Thank you, Nana."

She crouched down and hugged the child to her, the bumble bee costume crushing beneath her arm. "I love you very much, darling," she murmured, feeling the little girl's arms around her neck.

"I love you too, Nana!" she exclaimed, pulling away to throw her arms wide to her sides. The antennae on top of her head danced in the air as she moved. "THIS MUCH!" She beamed as the little girl grinned and giggled.

"Come on, Dee," Sean said, scooping his daughter into his arms. "Mommy, Owen, and Hope are waiting for us." Her son kissed her cheek as she stood and reached out, squeezing his hand. "Thanks for watching Tanner."

She nodded and watched them leave. The toddler took a late nap and was still sleeping, missing out on trick-or-treating with his older siblings and cousins. She stood in the doorway, watching as Sean jogged to catch up with his family. Shasta, Caitlin, Charlie, and the rest of the children were waiting at the start of the driveway. She smiled, waving once, before she turned back into the house.

"No, sir, we won't be late," she heard Ryan say as she closed the front door behind her. She rolled her eyes, placed the bowl of candy on the table in the foyer, and walked into the living room as Gregory continued to interrogate Evy's boyfriend.

"And, you're going to two parties?" he asked seriously, gazing intently at the teenager. Ryan nodded, shifting nervously in his tuxedo.

"Gregory," she sighed, shaking her head as Evy bounded down the stairs. She watched as he looked up, his face darkening when he saw their daughter's costume. If you could really call a white bikini a costume. She looped her arm through his and asked brightly, "Ready to leave?"

Evy nodded, beaming, as she took Ryan's hand. "Yup. I'll be home around two, three the latest."

"What exactly are you two going as?" she heard her husband asked and she couldn't help but marvel at the restraint in his voice.

"Dad, I can't _believe_ you're asking that!" she giggled, pulling out the fake dagger holstered to her hip. Olivia bit back a smile as Ryan pulled out a toy gun and the two of them struck a pose. "We're James Bond and the Bond Girl! You know, the one who was on fleek with her bikini." She held out her arm and used her phone to take a photo of herself and Ryan, as her husband swore beneath his breath. "What? Mom said you two dressed up like this once for Halloween years ago!"

Their daughter did have a point. At least Evy was a natural blonde and wouldn't need a wig like she did. She glanced up at her husband, whose annoyance was evident on his face. "Have a wonderful time tonight, darling," she interjected, moving away so she could shepherd them to the door. "Both of you."

Ryan looked at her gratefully as he took Evy's hand. "Thanks, Mrs. Richards." She nodded, kissing her daughter's cheek before they left.

As she closed the door behind them, she heard Gregory ask, "Did you really tell her that?"

She shrugged as she walked back into the living room. "She found a photo in the attic when she was looking for old pictures to display on the board at her birthday party. What was I supposed to do?"

"Lie," he retorted. "Tell her it wasn't us."

She frowned and sank into the sofa, leaning her head back. "Because lying has gotten us _so_ far," she muttered as she gazed up at the framed photos on the mantle. A moment later, she felt the cushions shift as he sat next to her. She reached out, going for where forty years of living together told her his hand would be. With a gentle squeeze as she took it, she said, "She's 18. We can't lie to her…or Caitlin and Sean. Not about _this_." _This_ had a name. It was Casey.

He chuckled ruefully. "Casey called it a 'lie by omission'." She sucked in her breath, feeling the same dizzying sense of déjà vu as she did this morning in the bedroom. Her mouth went dry and she let go of his hand as he continued, "He said if no one ever asked Alex about her son's father, then she didn't _really_ lie about it." She leaned forward over her knees, feeling sick, as she covered her mouth with both of her hands. He placed his hand in the middle of her back and sat up. "Are you alright?"

She nodded and turned her eyes away. Hadn't she done that for the first few years of Evy's life? Hadn't she lied by omission? Hadn't she consoled herself with that _very_ sentiment? She wasn't _really_ lying to Gregory if he never asked if he was Evy's father. His hand was a familiar weight on her back that brought her little comfort. "Liv?" she heard him ask as she continued to nod.

She turned her head, her hands still over her mouth as she watched him with wide eyes. "We need to tell them," she choked out, tasting bile in her mouth. He squared his shoulders and furrowed his brow as he watched her, contemplating her words. Her hands fell away from her lips and, for a moment, she wondered if she would vomit. She hadn't felt this sick in years. Not since the four years she spent lying by omission to Gregory. Alex's revelation from beyond the grave brought it all back. "He's your… _son_ ," she said, her pitch rising on that last word.

"Olivia…" he sighed, shaking his head.

She leaned closer, her hand resting on his thigh. "They already know something happened. At least the girls do." They both cornered her separately during the day, Evy in their bedroom and Caitlin in the kitchen. Questioning. Concerned. Their eyes brimming with worry. "Evy thought one of us was sick," she said, her pleading eyes meeting his gaze.

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing. I _lied_ ," she sighed as she looked away. "For the little good that it did. I don't think either of them believed me. I'm sure they've both talked to Sean about it." The bond between their three children was exceptionally strong, despite the age difference and physical distance separating them.

He sighed and leaned his head back. A moment later, she slipped closer, nuzzling against him as her palm molded to his cheek. "I don't want Caity and Sean to leave tomorrow wondering and worrying about this." She paused, biting the corner of her lip as her next thought stopped her cold. He looked over at the sudden silence before she continued slowly, "I don't think _Casey_ should leave town without speaking to you again."

With a deep exhale, his expression turned as he murmured, "I didn't ask for this." She sat frozen, her chest tight as he continued, "I didn't ask for… _him_."

* * *

Gregory felt her stiffen against him as her hand fell away from his face. "But, he's your son," she said softly as she pushed herself to the edge of the sofa cushion. He watched her face fall, her expression grim as she glanced over her shoulder. "You may not have asked for him, but…you have him."

He reached out, his fingers grazing her arm. Her face paled quickly, her eyes downcast. Deep within him, something stirred. Something he hadn't felt in many years. It was…the feeling that his wife wasn't telling him something. That she wasn't being honest with him. He cleared his throat and sat up, his right shoulder brushing against her left shoulder. "Liv," he began, his hand resting over hers, "we don't have to do this." She glanced up sharply, her eyes bright as he continued, "Casey…" The two syllables of his son's name – Alex's maiden name – burned his lips as he watched his wife.

"Don't have to do what?" she gasped. "Tell our children? Talk to your son?"

He turned to her, her mounting confusion serving as reassurance. This could be managed. This could be controlled. "We don't," he said simply. Her head went back as he continued, "The children don't need to know about this."

She turned away and hinged over her knees, her face in her hands. "God, Gregory," she murmured, her words muffled by her palms. She sat up slowly and turned to him, inhaling sharply. "How can you even _suggest_ that?"

He tilted his head as he reached out, holding her arms to steady her. "Because we _can_ ," he said, his voice low and firm. How could she not have seen this possibility? They knew. Casey knew. It could stop there.

"More lies?" Her head fell down as she slumped forward. "That's your answer." He was silent as she shook her head and frowned. "Lying never got us anywhere." Her voice fell as she looked down and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention as she disdainfully muttered, " _Secrets_."

Maybe it was her tone. The usual lilting cadence of her voice was gone, replaced instead with a flat tone. Maybe it was the way she suddenly stopped making eye contact. It wasn't _just_ the news that Casey was his son. It wasn't _just_ that Alex kept this secret from all of them. "Olivia-" he began, his tone grave.

"Do you know what will happen if we keep this secret?" she murmured and he glanced closely at her. She looked up slowly, her expression surprisingly clear. "What it will do to our family? To our children? To Casey?"

"Christ, Olivia!" he snapped, rolling his eyes as he turned his entire body to her. She sat still as he continued, "This is too melodramatic, even for _you_!"

"Do you know what it will do to _you_?" she asked quietly as she leaned closer. She gazed up at him, her eyes unblinking. "How this secret will eat you alive?"

His stomach turned as a long moment of silence stretched between them. She spoke – _sounded_ – like a person speaking from experience. "You sound as if you know." he suggested in a low voice. After more than four decades of life, what else did he still _not_ know about his wife? "What secret has eaten you alive, Olivia?" Her lips parted, her voice quivering as she whispered his name. He watched as her head fell forward, as if the invisible wire holding it up was severed. What secrets could they still possibly have between them? "Hmm?"

Her shoulders caved in as she admitted in a broken whisper, "When Evy was born, I didn't know if you were her father."

* * *

The sudden silence frightened Olivia. She couldn't even hear her husband breathing any longer. Slowly, oh so slowly, she raised her head and turned her eyes up. He sat next to her, facing her. He simply stared, his lips drawn in a grim line. She swallowed hard, her throat aching. Her lips formed the first syllable of his name, but no sound came to be. She sat there, frozen in the chill of his gaze. Her hand jerked, her natural inclination to reach for him. But, she stopped herself. She knew he wouldn't want that. Not now.

She knew, deep down, this moment was coming. From the moment she learned Casey was her husband's son, from the moment she realized how similar she and Alex were…she knew this was coming. Suddenly, the urge to speak with Alex overwhelmed her. To know if Alex really did know the truth. To know how Alex lived with herself. To know how she was able to live with her lie for decades.

"Why?"

Her eyes flew up as Gregory's question quaked in the silence. She pressed her palms into the leather cushion and leaned in toward him. "Why?" she asked, confused.

"Why would you possibly think," he said, slowly and quietly, " _this_ was the weekend to tell me that?"

Her eyes followed him as he stood abruptly. He couldn't even wait for her reply. Five steps later, he was at the bar and she flinched as she heard him fling an ice cube into one of the crystal tumblers. She stood slowly, her hands trembling against her thighs. "B-because telling myself I wasn't lying to you was harder than I ever thought possible. It was…a lie by omission."

He chuckled and glanced over his shoulder. "Really?" he asked, his face twisted in a mockery of amusement. "Lying to me was hard? I'd have thought you had _mastered_ it!"

Her head jerked as she nodded, watching sadness and betrayal ooze across his expression. "Because I- I can understand why Alex kept this secret."

* * *

Gregory's hand clenched around the glass as he watched his wife. He wasn't ignorant of the irony. The only two women he ever loved kept horrific secrets from him about his children. Now, here he was: caught in a never-ending rip tide of knowledge as he smashed against the rocks. "But, she was wrong," he heard her say. " _I_ was wrong. I-"

He forced himself to swallow a mouthful of scotch, barely feeling the warmth of the liquor down his throat. He ignored her confession as he interrupted, "How long?" Her brow furrowed and confusion rippled across her face as he continued, "How long did you wonder who her father was?" Speaking that question aloud made him nauseous. Of course, Evy was _his_ daughter. Other than the blonde hair she inherited from Olivia's mother, their youngest child was all Richards. Her looks. Her personality. Her mannerisms. But, the fact that she ever questioned Evy's paternity was a cancer on his soul. His thoughts raced as his brain ran through her possible answers. Certainly, she wondered for her pregnancy. He grimaced and remembered the cool dark night in Carmel when she told him she was pregnant again. Remembered the way the paralyzing surprise quickly turned to joy. Remembered the way his hand pressed to her stomach. Remembered the way he lay in her arms, so grateful for her and the children she gave him.

Remembered the way he didn't even _wonder_ if someone else could've fathered this child.

The thought _never_ even crossed his mind.

"I-I began to suspect she was yours before her second birthday," she said softly. "I knew for certain when she was four."

He closed his eyes, her response stinging him. Years. She let him love the little girl for YEARS. She named the baby after his dead mother. She let him fall in love with her lie. She did all that even though she knew – _KNEW_ – there was a chance she wasn't his daughter. He shook his head and turned away, suddenly not able to look at her.

A moment later, he felt her hand on his shoulder and he couldn't help it. He jerked away, his throat full of tension and vomit. "Oh, Gregory…please," she murmured as he felt her forehead press into the middle of his back. He sucked in his breath as he rolled his head, desperate to find some way out. He couldn't be here. Not with her. Not now.

"Why would you tell me this?" he asked, his voice strained. The dizzying feeling of helplessness consumed him, the result of being at her unmerciful truth. He blinked and cleared his throat as he felt her arms wrap around his chest. Her hands locked over his heart as she pressed against his back.

"You can't keep this secret. Don't…don't do what Alex and I did. We chose for you." He stiffened, his chest aching as she stood behind. "But, I-I just…I _so_ wanted to make you happy. We were so broken back then and a new baby… _Evy_ …was what we needed. I let the lie make you happy."

His heart seized within his rib cage as a lightening hot anger exploded within him. "No. What you did was let me _love_ her," he hissed, setting his glass down hard as he pushed her arms away. Behind him, he felt her start as the glass smacked against the marble surface of the bar. He turned sharply, catching the shame which clouded her expression _. If she didn't know for certain, she would have certainly suspected. A mother- a mother knows._ His hands trembled as he watched her, resisting the urge to shake her. "You let me _love_ her." She nodded rapidly, not denying it, as her face turned ghost-white and she wiped a tear from her cheek. He sighed, his head pounding as he gasped and repeated, "Why the fuck did you tell me this?" Before the truth was a forgotten bliss. When he lived in ignorance of her and her sickening lies.

She shook her head as she gasped, "I-I couldn't stop thinking about Alex's lie. My lie. These lies and secrets…they have to _stop_." She shrugged helplessly as she watched him with wide eyes. "They do nothing but hurt the people we love. I…" She faltered, her hands clasped to her chest as she continued in a breaking whisper, "I've _hurt_ you. You're hurting…and you're furious. You're furious with me _and_ Alex. All because of secrets we kept. So _why_ would you want to do that to our children and your son? Why would you want to lie and keep secrets if you _know_ how it will hurt them?" She faded into an abrupt silence, watching him carefully.

The quiet spoke volumes.

Because they _will_ find out.

Secrets never stay in the shadows.

* * *

Olivia swayed, her knees weak, as she watched him implode. His face fell as he sank into the armchair. A grave expression seemed permanently etched into his face, his eyes dark against the fine line of his clenched jaw. She took a tentative step forward, curling into herself as she tightly clasped her hands. Instead of trembling separately, they trembled together as her last secret fluttered away from her soul.

The truth may set you free, but it can also destroy you in the process.

He couldn't even look at her. But, didn't she deserve that? She wasn't worthy of his gaze. She couldn't be. What wife lied to her husband with the same tortured devotion she lied to Gregory? Slowly, she sank – collapsed – to the corner of the sofa and unlaced her fingers. "I- I don't want you to feel _this_ ," she murmured, sadly gazing at him. He scoffed beneath his breath as his eyes turned up to the ceiling. "This suffocating self-hatred because you've destroyed someone you love with every breath in your body."

But, he still didn't turn to her.

She leaned forward, her elbows digging into her thighs as she hung her head in her hands. "Because you were afraid to tell him the truth." Now uncorked, the truth bubbled up in her throat like champagne in a bottle. "Because you didn't want to break his heart, though that's _exactly_ what happened in the end. Because you didn't want him to look at you with hatred again. Because you didn't want him to go back to not looking at you at all."

A shiver raced up her spine as she felt the weight of his gaze on her. Slowly, she looked up. Finally, he was looking at her. Her stomach contorted as their eyes met, his brown irises flat and lifeless. "I did a horrible thing," she whispered, sliding across the leather cushions. Her heart sank when he stiffened as the space between them evaporated. "An unforgiveable thing. I placed a baby in your arms and I let you love her. I let her love you." Cole's disgusted voice whispered from her memory, his accusation no less true today than it was five years ago. "I did it all to save myself," she concluded, the pitch of her voice rising as she held back a sob. She sniffled and reached out, placing a tentative hand on his arm. He didn't flinch. In fact, he had no reaction at all. She leaned closer, falling to her knees before him, as she pled, "But, darling, she's _your_ daughter. In _every_ way."

"Well." His soft voice seeming like thunder and she inhaled as he looked down at her, continuing, "It all worked out for you." Her head went back as he asked, "Didn't it?"

She shook her head sadly as he stood and sighed deeply. Nothing worked out if he was looking at her like this: gutted and broken. Her eyes turned up, following him as he looked at the picture frames on the mantle with bewilderment. He sighed as he ran a shaking hand through his thinning hair, birthing a lump in her throat. He seemingly aged in moments, suddenly looking older than 65. "Jesus Christ, Olivia," he sighed.

Her lips disappeared into a frown as she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his thigh. "I'm sorry, Gregory," she said, closing her eyes as tears stung them. Her hands cupped his shins, steadying herself, as she knelt before him. "But, sorry…sorry _isn't_ enough." For a brief moment, she felt his hand brush against the back of her head. She bit the corner of her lip as his fingers danced against her hair. Sorry _wasn't_ enough. An apology a day for the rest of her life couldn't _begin_ to atone for the multitude of sins she committed against him.

The baby monitor crackled and, a heartbeat later, she heard Tanner whimper. Oh, damn! Of all the times for their grandson to wake from his nap! His hand fell away as she looked up, unshed tears blurring her vision. Tanner's whimper segued into the annoyed way he cried, "Ma!"

* * *

Gregory's palm still tingled from brushing against her hair as she looked up. Their grandson's sobbing echoed in the living room, crackling out of the baby monitor on the coffee table. Her hands pressed into his leg as she held him, her expression crumbling with every passing moment. He felt nothing inside, nothing but the blank emptiness of devastation. Slowly, he held out his hand, his palm facing the heavens. She blinked, the tears catching on her eye lashes as she watched his hand for a long moment. After a long moment, she took it and stood slowly as she watched him carefully. Her pale face and trembling chin should have evoked something within him.

But, all he felt was nothing.

Then, he felt it.

He felt his own hand squeeze hers. It was an involuntary gesture as second nature to him as breathing. When Olivia's hand was in his, he squeezed it. Gratefully. Lovingly. Always.

She inhaled sharply and looked down, shaking her head as she squeezed back. A moment later, she stepped into him and pressed against his chest. Her arms wrapped around him as she sighed, his name an echo on her lips. "I'm sorry," she murmured against his throat. "Oh, darling, I'm sorry." He closed his eyes as the echo of their grandson's cry swelled around them.


	5. Not a Betrayal

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Five: "Not a Betrayal"

Olivia lurched awake, blinking rapidly. Her brain swirled in confusion as she took in where she was. Her study, the home office she worked out of for the first four years of Evy's life. The renovated office was Gregory's surprise for her when she came home from the hospital with Evy. It was right next to his own on the first floor. _No connecting door, darling?_ She gasped deeply, her fingers pressed to her forehead as she remembered his teasing reply. _Liv, I'd never get any work done if my study connected to yours. You're far too tempting of a distraction._ The cashmere throw blanket slipped off her and crumpled to the floor with barely a whisper as she sat up.

The enormity of last night weighed down on her and she closed her eyes. If anything needed to be a bad dream – a _nightmare_ – it was last night. When she broke Gregory's heart – again. When she revealed the last secret left between them – and destroyed him in the process. Other than the way it felt when he pulled away from her embrace as Tanner howled from the second floor, he hadn't touched her for the rest of the night. He barely came near her, even after their older children and their families returned. They all sat in the living room as the grandchildren sorted through and traded their Halloween candy. She watched Gregory, who sat on the opposite end of the sofa as a half-asleep Hope crawled into in his lap. He looked shell-shocked, like a man who had been through the worst fires of hell and was struggling with living.

Across from her, a throat cleared and she looked up, surprised. Gregory sat in the armchair, still in yesterday's clothes. She lowered her eyes, feeling her throat flush with shame. Now, she remembered. He had retreated into his study after dinner, while their two older children and their spouses fought through bath time with their grandchildren. She hadn't seen him again for the rest of the evening. Her own attempts at falling asleep in their bed had proven futile. There were too many reminders. Gregory's scent on the sheets. His robe tossed at the foot of the bed. Ghosts of her _sins_. The way Cole's breathing sounded as she took him into this very bed. Hiding bottles of liquor around the room. Every night when she let Gregory believe. Lies, lies, lies.

Her study was a far _safer_ place.

"Did you sleep in your study?" she murmured.

She looked up slowly as he replied, "I was in my study, but I didn't sleep." He looked exhausted, she realized, as she brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I couldn't."

She nodded. They couldn't have slept more than eight hours between them the last two nights. Her own eyes burned with fatigue as she watched him lean forward, rubbing his face. "Gre-"

"You made a _fool_ out of me, Olivia." She inhaled as his hands fell away and he looked up, their eyes meeting. "A goddamned fool."

Her heart sank, hearing the honesty and melancholy in his flat tone. The betrayal. The lingering shock. The pain. _You wanted the both of us_. Of course he did. She and Alex were more alike than he _ever_ realized. "I-"

He shook his head and leaned in, his eyes dark as he murmured, "You were willing to let me raise _Del's_ child."

Her stomach flipped and her hand trembled as she leaned forward, covering her mouth. Sean once accused her of the same thing. _How did you think you were going to explain it to Dad when that kid is born with a full head of red Douglas hair?_ They both suspected Del. Perhaps that was for the best. There was no good which came from him knowing that Cole could've been Evy's father. No good. "She's your dau-"

"BUT, YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT!" he bellowed, his expression turning as she flinched. His anger crackled across the room as he sat up. "NOT UNTIL EVY WAS FOUR!" The tortured expression on his face silently screamed his next question: _How could you have done that to me?_

She nodded as her eyes fell away. "I-I wanted her," she whispered, her fingertips stupidly smoothing the silk of her robe. She wanted her unborn child. She wanted her husband. She didn't want to choose between them. Was that so much to ask? "She was _my_ daughter." She heard him inhale and she looked up, watching him with wide eyes. "W-wouldn't that have been enough?" she murmured. "If she wasn't yours, wouldn't that still have been a reason to love her?"

" _DON'T_." She watched him stand, his eyes full. His rumpled clothes accentuated the dark circles beneath his eyes. "Don't you _force_ that ultimatum on me. Not now."

He turned away and she nodded to herself as her shoulders caved in. She knew him. She knew his pride. If Evy hadn't been his daughter and he found out, their marriage would have ended. He would have thrown the both of them out of his life.

It wouldn't have mattered that she was Evy's mother. Not one bit.

* * *

Gregory's hands trembled as he blindly gazed at the painting on the wall. The texture of the oil paint may not have even existed for all that he glared at it. This weekend had dissolved into a goddamned nightmare. One that he couldn't wake from, no matter how hard he tried. Evy was his daughter. _His_. "Evy- Evy is never to know about this," he spat out before he looked over his shoulder. Her pale face was heartbroken as she nodded slowly. Her lips parted, as if in reply, but no sound came out. "I mean it, Olivia. Whatever crisis of conscience you might have again in the future, she is _never_ to know."

"Yes," she murmured, brushing her eyes. His heart contorted in his chest as she leaned forward, her face in her hands. He turned around, a chill going up his spine, as he heard the way she coughed. It was…unnatural. A moment later, she pulled the blanket back into her lap before she vomited into the cashmere.

He moved to her as she leaned over her knees, retching into the blanket. He placed his hand on her back as he crouched beside her, feeling the way her entire body shook. With a sigh of her name, he brushed her limp hair back out of her face. "It's n-nothing. Just acid," he heard her choke and he looked up. Her blue eyes were bloodshot against her deathly pale skin. "I don't even remember when I last ate."

"I suppose that makes it alright then," he murmured as she sniffed and delicately folded the throw blanket into a bundle before she pushed it aside. Her eyes flickered to his as she reached for the cold tea on the coffee table. She took a sip, swished it around her mouth for a long moment, and spit it back into the porcelain cup.

"She's _our_ daughter," she whispered as she looked back up at him. "There will never be a reason for her to ever know I suspected otherwise." With a painstaking slowness, she reached out, her hand on his forearm. " _Ever_."

He knew this was the truth. Over their married life, they had been many things, including people who had failed to put the needs of their two oldest children first. But, since Evy's birth, they had been better. They had been the parents they always set out to be. The weight of the last forty-eight hours and its revelations came crashing down on him. He was too old for it all. _Far_ too old. With a sigh, he lowered his forehead to her hand and closed his eyes. A moment later, he felt her fingers comb through his hair, his scalp tingling. He hadn't slept in days. Neither of them had.

She leaned down, her breath against his ear as she whispered, "But, that can be the only secret we keep from them." Goddamn it. He sighed and pushed his head up, blinking his blurry eyes. "They have to know about Casey."

"Olivia-" he sighed. He was tired. So fucking tired of all of this.

"Be better than I am." He looked up at her, her palm still warm against his arm. The dark smudges beneath her eyes were a sharp counterpoint to her pale flesh as she murmured, "Be _braver_ than I am." He inhaled as she cupped his cheek with her other hand, her palm trembling against his flesh. "Give them the truth. Don't let them know," he watched her closely as she shrugged helplessly, "what this feels like."

"I-"

Her hand shook as she whispered, "Don't hurt them the way I've hurt _you_." She nodded sadly as her hand fell away from his cheek. He sighed as she leaned her head down, resting her forehead on his arm.

* * *

" _WHAT?_ "

Olivia felt Gregory's hands tighten on her shoulders as Evy's question rang out in his study. She reached up, covering his hand with one of her own as their youngest daughter glared at them both. "Evy," she began.

The teenager shook her head, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Last night's mascara was still smudged around her eyes, her brown eyes dulled against it. "Why didn't you tell us before?!" she insisted, her knees drawn up tight to her chin. For their parts, Caitlin and Sean sat on either side of her, just as stunned as their younger sister.

"We're telling you now," she said quietly, grateful the door was closed, "because we just found out ourselves."

Caitlin cleared her throat as she took her sister's hand. "How?" she asked. "How did you find out?"

She sat, listening for the second time as Gregory recited the story of how he learned he was Casey's father. Somehow, it was easier to take this time around. Or, maybe it seemed more benign in light of her own betrayals against Gregory. Or, maybe it was because she felt the insatiable urge to protect Gregory from their children's questions. To be on his side during this difficult conversation. Because, she was, wasn't she? On his side? She glanced up when he fell silent, his jaw tight. She patted his hand and sent him an encouraging smile when he looked down.

She _was_ on his side. Despite the horrible pain she caused him, she was on his side.

 _Always_.

"I…" Caitlin began before she trailed off into silence. Her soft chuckle segued into a moan as she sat forward, hiding her face in her palms. "I feel sick. I- I had a crush on Casey," she said, her voice muffled behind her hands. "When I was thirteen."

Olivia's stomach turned as her husband's hands clenched down on her shoulders. "That's gross," Evy exclaimed as she sent them both an accusatory glare.

"Evelyn, that's enough," she heard Gregory snap.

The teenager merely glared in reply as Caitlin sat up, brushing a tear from her cheek. "This- it isn't-" she stuttered, her husband's palms burning into her shoulders. This isn't the worst news, she wanted to say. It wasn't as if Gregory lied to them for years, the way she lied to him. It wasn't as if Gregory foisted a child onto her, the way she did to him. But, she couldn't bring herself to force the words from her mouth.

"That explains it," she heard Sean murmur, pulling her out of her own thoughts.

Gregory cleared his throat. "Explains what?"

He shook his head as he gazed off in thought. "Yesterday morning, Charlie and I saw Casey downtown. He could barely look me in the eye." He sighed and collapsed back against the sofa cushions as he looked up at the ceiling. "Fuck," he muttered.

She turned back up to her husband, watching her husband's frown. It was an expression he'd worn since yesterday evening. She stood slowly and moved to his side, her arm slipping around his waist. He turned to her, his eyes blank as she leaned her forehead against his chin. "This isn't a betrayal," she murmured into his throat. She inhaled sharply and turned back to their children. Sean was still stunned, Evy was still glaring, and Caitlin was still looking ill. "It's not," she insisted, more for their benefit than her own. She, who had been guilty of too many betrayals against Gregory over the course of their marriage, wouldn't allow him to be cast out over this. "It was long before Daddy and I were married- my goodness, before we even _met_."

"That's _bullshit_!" Evy spat out and she flinched at the unbridled anger in her daughter's tone. "You were Alex's friend, Mom! HER _FRIEND_!" She sighed, listening to the righteousness with which her daughter shouted those words. It was her profound innocence which fueled her anger. She hadn't been in the world long enough to have more than a black-and-white view of what was right and what was wrong. "And, she did nothing but LIE to you!"

"Evelyn Frances," Gregory said, his voice low and serious, "that's en-"

She jumped up and stalked past them, flinging open the door. "FRIENDS AREN'T _SUPPOSED_ TO DO THAT TO YOU!"

The door slammed shut behind her with such force that it sounded as if the door jamb split. She turned, staring at the door with her mouth agape. She always knew their daughter had her father's temper, but even _this_ was a shock. "What the hell was that?" Gregory murmured as she turned back and met his eyes.

She shrugged as Caitlin cleared her throat and pushed her hair behind her ear. "I think she had a fight with Ryan last night," she said softly. "I heard could hear her through the wall, shouting and crying around four this morning."

Olivia sighed and pressed her hands to her temples. It was selfish, but this _wasn't_ the weekend for her daughter to have her heart broken. It just wasn't.

"So," Sean tentatively asked, "what does Casey…want?"

"I don't know," she heard Gregory reply, his voice soft until he cleared his throat. "I suppose…to know the truth. Once and for all."

"Does he want a- a… _relationship_ with us?" Caitlin wondered. Their daughter looked between them, a thoughtful expression on her face. "You both have thought of that, haven't you?"

She locked eyes with Gregory, seeing that very thought reflected in his brown irises. Perhaps, Casey didn't even realize that's what he wanted. But, it made sense, didn't it? His mother was dead. What other family did he have besides his wife and children? "He…might," she replied softly. She turned back to Caitlin, nodding slightly.

"We'll know more this evening. We've asked him to come by," Gregory said decisively. He wandered back to his desk and sank into his leather chair. He looked up and met her eyes, exhaustion clouding his face.

"Wait. Should we stay?" Sean asked, turning to him. She bit her lip, letting Gregory answer. "Shasta can go back to Seattle with the kids-"

"Of course not. You've got plane tickets-"

"I can change mine," Sean insisted as Caitlin asked, "Are you sure, Daddy?"

Gregory looked up, watching their children carefully. "Both of you will go home with your families," he said simply. "Tonight is just a conversation."

Just a conversation, she mused.

* * *

Evy lay across her bed, hot and angry tears seeping into the pillow bunched beneath her head. The devastating sadness consumed her and she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face into the sodden pillow as she continued to sob.

Ryan was an idiot.

A big, stupid idiot who only thought with one thing, just like her Aunt Bette always claimed men did.

And, Katie….

Katie was the biggest traitor she had ever met.

The next song came up on her playlist, the sound of the gentle guitar making her cry harder. Stupid Ryan, who loved this band. Stupid Ryan, who liked playing the guitar. Stupid Ryan, who would sing this song for her as they watched the sunset from the patio. Stupid Ryan, who she used to think was _so_ sensitive and soulful. Stupid Ryan, who was a stupid hipster wannabe.

She heard her bedroom door open and close quietly, but she didn't look up. She didn't care who it was. She didn't care about anything anymore. The mattress shifted as someone climbed onto the bed behind her and, a moment later, she felt Mom's arms around her and her chest against her back. "What did Ryan do?" she asked softly, her voice warm as it tickled her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her nose clogged with snot as she sobbed, "He- he- he got wasted and hooked up with KATIE!" She rolled over, burying her face in Mom's chest as if she was five again. She sobbed into oblivion, feeling Mom's hand smoothing down her hair.

 _Forever I will move like the world that turns beneath me  
And when I lose my direction I'll look up to the sky_

Mom's lips kissed her forehead as she hugged her close as she continued to cry. But, it wasn't like when a nightmare woke her in the middle of the night and she ran to Mom and Dad's bed. Mom couldn't fix this. Ever. She hiccupped, her head swelling with pressure as she began to choke on her own sobs.

"Oh, darling," she murmured, turning her chin up. Mom was frowning and her eyes were downcast. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head insistently and snapped, "He's so stupid if he really thinks I'll forgive him for this!" She looked up at Mom, her eyes wide, as she continued, "I mean, Katie doesn't care about him at all! She ONLY cares about herself! She doesn't love him!" She burst into a new round of tears as Mom nodded, brushing wisps of blonde hair from her face. "But, _I_ do, Mommy! _I_ love him!" she wailed, lowering her face.

"I know," she heard her say. "Oh, darling, I know that." But, she only shook her head and collapsed back against her mother. A black hole opened within her, the pain spreading over and through her until she couldn't breathe. Hot tears burned trails from her eyes and down her cheeks as her mother's words washed over her. But, she couldn't make the words out. She heard them, but she didn't understand them. A dark fog consumed her, distorting whatever Mom was saying.

Stupid Ryan.

"I can't forgive him," she said angrily, turning her face to look up, "and you shouldn't forgive, Dad!"

Mom sighed and shook her head, smoothing her hair back. "Oh, darling," she murmured as she closed her swollen eyes. She sniffled as she watched her mother's eyes reopen. "It isn't that simple," she sighed.

She shook her head angrily and pushed away as she sat up. "Puh-lease," she snapped, rubbing her eyes. "It _is_." The mattress shifted as Mom leaned up too, their legs hanging off the bed as they sat shoulder-to-shoulder.

Mom took her hand and squeezed it gently as she murmured, "Daddy hasn't done anything that…that I need to forgive _him_ for." She glanced over when she abruptly stopped speaking and instead just gazed at their clasped hands. With her free hand, she wiped her raw eyes and watched as Mom inhaled sharply and patted her hand. "Forgiveness is a funny thing, Evy. When you're the one at fault, you want forgiveness more than _anything_. But, when you're the one who's been wronged, forgiveness is the _last_ thing on your mind. All you can think of is how much you've been hurt."

She nodded slowly, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "Everything hurts," she sobbed. "It's never going to stop! I want to die, Mom! I just want to die!" She gasped as she slumped over, her head landing in her mother's lap as she cried.

* * *

Gregory looked up as Olivia came down the stairs, sighing. "Is she alright?" he asked, meeting her at the last step.

She shook her head as she pressed her palms to her cheeks. "That little shit broke her heart," she said softly. "Oh, Gregory, she's _devastated_. She's more upset than when we had to put Tater Tot to sleep."

He sighed, feeling it in his bones. Evy had been hysterical when she said goodbye to the small dog who had been her shadow since she was four. "What did _he_ do?" he asked, his throat tight. Lie? Keep a secret? Hurt the person he claimed to love?

"Just," she sighed, her own eyes exhausted and heavy, "decided he liked another girl more. Katie, the midfielder." She shook her head and glanced behind her, back up the staircase. "She cried herself to sleep."

"She'll be fine," he forced himself to say, stiffening as she turned back to him. She turned back slowly, her eyes narrowed, as he continued, "Sleep is the best thing for her. When she wakes up, she'll realize she's better off without that little punk."

She sighed and folded her arms against her chest. "I'm afraid she'll need more than sleep to heal her broken heart."

Her voice was downcast. Hoarse. He frowned and turned away, muttering, "Well, she's too young for scotch. That's always helped me."

He heard the way she inhaled as he wandered over to the bar, reaching for the decanter of scotch. "I deserved that," she said softly.

"You _absolutely_ did," he said flatly as the amber liquid bubbled into the crystal tumbler. It should've sounded snarky and cutting. But, he couldn't manage the bite behind his sentiment. Instead, it just sounded sad and dejected, like the prayer of a broken man.

"I-I deserved that too."

Her words had an underlying rasp to them, suggesting her throat was burned raw. He clutched his glass and turned slowly, catching her eye. She wasn't by the stairs anymore. Instead, she had moved into the living room and was standing near the sofa. Her expression was hesitant, almost as if she was unsure if she should come closer to him. As if she was unsure what to say next. As if she was unsure if he even _wanted_ her there.

Well.

That made two of them.

He sighed and raised the glass to his mouth. "Did you mean what you said this morning? To the children?"

She took a tentative step closer, her head cocked. "Wh-what did I say?"

"That it wasn't a betrayal."

"Of course." The two syllables came out of her mouth so quickly and without hesitation that he knew it was the truth. The scotch was warm down his throat as he watched her shake her head. "It was before me," she said softly. "I knew you weren't a monk before we met." Her mouth closed abruptly as if she was censoring her next thought.

He watched her closely as her hand went to her throat, her fingers toying with the delicate diamond necklace. He recognized it instantly. He had given it to her after Evy was born. _Three children, three diamonds_. He remembered the way he crouched next to the rocking chair and held open the velvet-lined jeweler's box. The way she looked up at him, Evy's sleeping body nestled against her chest. The way her finger tips danced across the diamonds set into the rose gold infinity symbol. The way she looked up at him, blinking back tears as she beamed.

The scotch turned rancid as fury flushed through his veins.

The way she blinked back tears and beamed, even as she secretly wondered if _he_ was Evy's father.

"Y-you didn't lie," she finally said and he blinked, yanking himself out of eighteen-year-old memories. "Not to me."

Not to her. Not about this. But, there _had_ been many lies over the years. From her _and_ from him. All those years when they forsook each other. Betrayed each other. Hurt each other. But, _she_ brought their daughter into it, hadn't she? She _always_ brought their children into it. Years ago, he had taken pains at discretion, doing whatever was necessary for Caitlin and Sean to be blind to the dark side of their marriage. But, not Olivia. _Never_ Olivia. Their older children were unfortunate witnesses to her three-ring circus. Drunken hysterics. Painful hangovers. The revolving door of men.

"But, _I_ lied," she continued softly as her fingers continued to toy with the diamond necklace. "I lied to you. About Evy." With a sad smile, one tinged with regret, she murmured, "The children think you're somehow at fault with Casey, when really, it's me. _I'm_ the one guilty of the betrayal."

It _was_ a betrayal. A betrayal of the rawest order.

"It's _always_ been me," she concluded, her weak voice cracking. She looked up sadly, her fingers frozen around the necklace. "I know there's no way to be forgiven for everything I've done. For destroying you. For breaking your heart." His chest tightened as she explained in a breaking whisper, "But, I do want to be forgiven. Somehow."

He sighed and glanced away. He felt the abrupt quiet more than he heard it. Caitlin and Charlie packed their children up and left for the long drive back to Sonoma County. Sean and Shasta took off soon after, going to the airport to catch a late afternoon flight back to Seattle. With Caitlin and Sean's families gone, the house suddenly seemed larger with just the three of them in it again. With Evy on self-imposed exile to her bedroom, suddenly the distance between him and his wife seemed as impenetrable as a mountain pass during a blizzard.

"Maybe someday," she mused quietly as she began to leave the living room.

"I do love you," he said softly, watching as she stopped. Her back was to him and the unnatural rigidity of her spine stood out like a lighthouse in the dark night. But, it was true. He had loved her since he was a newly minted junior partner, the youngest in the firm's history. His entire adult life began and ended with her. Everything good in his life was because of her. But, the bad was because of her too. The hurt. The lies. "But, I can't-" She looked over her shoulder as his voice cracked, the pain in her expression mirroring the devastation in his soul. He cleared his throat and took a deep sip of scotch, letting it burn its way down his aching throat. "Someday," he choked out.

Someday.

It was the only honest response he could manage.

* * *

 _A/N: The lyrics are from "The Once and Future Carpenter" (written by Scott Avett, Seth Avett, and Robert Crawford)._


	6. In Whose Light

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Six: "In Whose Light"

Casey sat in the driver's seat of his rental car, gazing up through the windshield. The car was too clean. The medicinal smell of the cheap soap permeated the interior, irritating the headache which had swelled behind his eyes for the last two weeks. Gregory's palatial Mediterranean-style mansion loomed before him, a silhouette against the setting sky. The older man's voice was crisp and commanding on the voice message. _Stop by to see us around 7, Casey._ Us. Not me. _Us._ He sighed, ignoring the glow from the digital clock on the dashboard. 7:36.

Diana's hand was gentle on his thigh as she squeezed lightly. "We should probably go in," she murmured. "Don't you think?"

He turned to her, suddenly grateful for the headstrong woman he married sixteen years ago. The one who showed up outside his hotel room earlier today, a blessed vision in a jeans and a faded Metallica t-shirt. The one who didn't listen to him. The beach to his bum. She watched him carefully, her long hair cascading in waves over her shoulders. The concert t-shirt was gone and replaced with a simple emerald green sundress. Slowly, he nodded, feeling every muscle in his neck. She smiled and turned, opening the passenger door.

He pushed himself out, standing tall as he exhaled deeply. It was a sigh that went through his entire body, leaving him slightly dizzy and light-headed. As he forced his legs to move, Diana smiled at him, her hand extended. He took it, pulling her to him as his arm snaked around her slender frame. The courtyard was quiet as they walked through it, the distant roar of the ocean reaching their ears. Suddenly, it was there – the front door. Lights glowed from behind the frosted glass and he faltered. "Hard part's already done," he heard Diana whisper, her palm against his abdomen. "He already knows."

He nodded and slowly reached out, pressing his index finger firmly against the doorbell. The chimes echoed from behind the door, just as they had done the other day. When he stood in this very spot. When he waited for Gregory to open it. A dark shadow moved behind the glass and his hand clamped down on Diana's shoulder.

* * *

Olivia hung back in the living room, her hands clasped before her as Gregory opened the door. The breath caught in her throat as she listened to the introductions, already forgetting the name of his wife. She had a vague memory of meeting her years ago at Alex's memorial.

It was all so polite. So calm. So _normal_. Watching her husband's son enter their home.

It was what _needed_ to happen.

It was the only way forward.

Because he _was_ Gregory's son. Because, despite the latent jealousy over the years, she _had_ liked Alex…just as her husband always wished. Because, after all of her own failings and sins, this was her penance. To help Gregory and their children welcome Casey into their family.

Maybe then, and _only_ then, would she find absolution.

She heard her name and she looked up, forcing a smile as the greetings shifted to her. She watched Casey as he neared her, seeing the stern, but fearful, expression on his face. Hadn't Gregory looked at her that very way the first time she woke up in their bed, hungover and covered in sick? Hadn't Sean looked at her that way when she and Gregory bailed him out of the jail in Mexico when he was a sophomore in college?

Casey didn't look at _all_ like her husband at first glance, but, when you looked closer, you could see it.

You could see he was Gregory's son.

* * *

Gregory sat next to Olivia on the sofa as Casey and Diana sat across from them. A pregnant silence stretched between them, Casey watching Olivia closely as Diana's eyes darted between them. What does one say? How does one start?

"What do you do, Diana?" Olivia asked, her soft voice ringing out in the silence like church bells.

The younger woman smiled – grateful for an easy topic to start with, perhaps? – as she brushed her hair back. He watched Casey, who finally turned away from Olivia in order to watch his wife's reply. For his part, he wasn't listening. The younger woman's slight drawl ebbed over him as he watched Casey's profile. He was all Alex. It was easy to see why her lie by omission worked. He looked enough like her that it wasn't even odd to think he didn't look like John.

He believed Alex when she shook her head at him, her long strawberry-blonde hair falling in waves around her face. But, now, looking at Casey in a new light, he could see why she believed it herself. Maybe she only suspected Casey was his son and _not_ John's. Or maybe she didn't know at all. Or maybe she knew for certain. But, the how and why of it didn't really matter anymore, did it? Alex was dead. She wasn't going to answer any of their questions.

She wasn't going to explain _anything_.

A lick of irritation went through him and his hand involuntarily clenched around Olivia's. His wife's painfully honest answers to his questions and her bombshell confession left still oozing wounds on his soul. Perhaps it was for the best Alex was dead. He didn't think he could survive another confession and more answers, however desperately he may have wanted them from the dead woman.

* * *

Casey sat, stunted into silence. Diana and Olivia were carrying the conversation, chatting amiably as if they had been old friends for years. Gregory was quiet, but he could _feel_ his eyes on him. He refused to look up and meet them. He just couldn't.

 _"What's his wife's name again?" she asked, gazing out the window of the rental car._

 _He cleared his throat. "Olivia," he said quietly._

 _She repeated the name aloud, as if committing it to memory. "She's from somewhere, right? Europe?"_

 _"England."_

 _"I thought I remembered an accent." He took his eye off the road long enough to glance questioningly. She was already looking at him. "I met her at Alex's memorial. Allie, Harrison, and I met them both."_

He sighed and looked up, where his gaze finally locked with Gregory's. He wondered what he was thinking. He used to know what Mom was thinking about just by the expression on her face. But, he didn't know Gregory. Not like that. For an insane moment, he wondered if Caitlin, Sean, or Evy could decipher his expression.

Since Friday, he's wondered what it would have been like to have been raised by Gregory. He can't picture it though. He never understood why Mom was friends with him. They were complete opposite ends of the spectrum. Gregory was everything he and Mom weren't – ruthless, arrogantly confident, and cold.

He glanced down at the few photos scattered on the coffee table. An old photo of Gregory and Olivia on a boat. A photo of him and Olivia with small children he didn't recognize. One of him and Caitlin on her wedding day. One of him with Sean and Evy, the three of them wearing matching hats in front of a baseball stadium. He could think of a dozen similar photos in his living room in Islamorada of him and his family.

He remembered a cold waiting room in the Medical Center years ago. He remembered watching Gregory pace the length of the space. He remembered the older man was furious with Rae, angry with his wife, and worried about his son. Terrified. Someone who was cold wasn't terrified.

But, most importantly, Mom loved him. Mom wouldn't love someone who was cold. Mom wouldn't love someone who wasn't worthy of her.

He sat back, a sigh rising in his throat. She loved him. There had to have been something in Gregory that he didn't know about it if Mom could love him.

He didn't know _anything_ anymore.

* * *

Olivia glanced over when she heard Casey sigh. He looked sick, a pained expression on his face. She cleared her throat and stood slowly, her hand slipping from Gregory's vise-like grip. "Diana, would you like a cup of tea?" she asked. The younger woman nodded, squeezed her husband's knee, and stood too. She turned away, feeling the weight of all that remained unsaid between her husband and Casey churning behind her like a thunderstorm.

She walked through the dark dining room and into the kitchen, where the calm façade fell as her shoulders collapsed. She braced her hand on the center island, the coolness of the stone shocking her palm. Her eyes fluttered against the dizziness churning within her as she asked, "How has Casey been?"

Diana shook her head and exhaled into her hands as she leaned back against the counter. "Angry," she explained. "Shocked. Mostly scared." Their eyes met as she continued, "He's angry with Alex and _that_ scares him. He's never been angry with her before."

She only nodded in response, glancing away in time to see the patio lights spring to life. Where they outside now? As she turned to walk towards the French doors, she heard feet on the back staircase. A moment later, Evy moped into the kitchen, her blonde hair piled on top of her head. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed as she gazed blankly at them, her body swimming in one of Gregory's ancient Cornell sweatshirts. "Oh," she said lamely. She rubbed the side of her face and Olivia could tell she had just woken. "I…I didn't know…"

"Evy, this is Diana. Casey's wife." She turned to Diana, introducing her to Evy, as she tried to remember how many children Casey and Diana had. One was close to Evy's age, she recalled. She turned back to her forlorn daughter, watching as she sank into one of the chairs around the kitchen table, her chin falling into her hands. "Cup of tea, darling?" she asked, reaching for the kettle.

She nodded sadly as she looked out the French doors. "Is that him out there with Dad?" Instantly, she forgot the tea as she and Diana moved towards the windows in unison, watching their respective husbands. Between the fading sunlight and the artificial light from the lamps, they could easily see Gregory and Casey. They were talking. They were facing each other, though Gregory's back was to them. From behind her, Evy murmured, "He looks like Dad when he frowns. Don't you think?"

* * *

Gregory watched Casey as their wives left the living room. He sighed, a tiny flicker of annoyance going through him. Olivia _would_ force them to talk. It was her nature, her strength. When he would wallow in silence, she would coax him into a conversation. _Be braver than I am_. "Well," he said softly, catching the younger man's eye.

He nodded slightly and swallowed hard, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. "I saw Sean the other day," he said softly, watching him with full eyes. _Alex's_ eyes.

"Yes. He mentioned that." He heard his own voice, how and calm and even it sounded. It was his courtroom voice, the one he used to bond with the jury. When his voice was his armor. When his voice got him through any situation the D.A. or witness threw at him.

"Does he know? Do- do they _all_ know?"

"Yes," he said simply. "Olivia and I told them this morning." Stunned them was more like it.

Casey sat still, though an exhale deflated his chest. "I haven't told my children yet." His heart throbbed within his chest. _Children_. He had more grandchildren.

"Will you?" he asked, hearing the tentativeness in his question. What exactly did Casey want? A relationship, like Olivia and Caitlin suspected? Knowing the truth couldn't be enough. Not for this long-kept secret.

Suddenly, Casey stood, his navy blue jacket whistling in the silence. His face was pale beneath his weathered and suntanned flesh. His hands twitched at his sides as he said tightly, "I- I think I need some air."

He stood and gestured to the patio door. As he followed Casey out, he switched on the patio lights, their glow scattering on the stone. The sun was close to dipping behind the horizon and an eerie red-orange glow surrounded them. They stood at the top of the shallow steps which led down to the pool as the younger man sucked air into his lungs. "I don't know how to tell them," he heard him say, his voice flat. "I don't know how to tell them without them seeing how angry I am."

They were side-by-side, gazing out at the sunset. Anger he understood. Anger was always easy. It was other emotions that were harder to deal with. Pain. Betrayal. Hurt. Those were the things which could send a person down a rabbit hole of no return. "I'm angry with Alex too," he admitted beneath his breath. Alex…Olivia…his anger towards them was an even brushstroke. His eyes were still fixed on the horizon, but he felt Casey turn to him. But, it was true. He _was_ angry with her…not that he could really do anything with it. "I- I believed her when she shook her head."

* * *

Casey sucked in his breath and felt his stomach lurch. So, he _did_ suspect. Once. For a moment. "When you asked me the other day if I knew you were my son," Gregory continued in a soft voice, "it was something I hadn't thought about in more than 40 years." He shook his head, clenching his fists, as the older man said, "It was the first thing I thought of when she announced she was pregnant."

"I don't know why she lied," he choked out as his chest tightened.

Gregory finally turned to him, an oddly bemused expression on his face. "I don't know either," he admitted. "But, I know Alex. With everything she did, every decision she made…she had her reasons."

He frowned, the pressure in his chest increasing. "That doesn't make anything easier for us!" he spat. "She's not here to explain _any_ of her reasons!" Because she was dead. His mother was dead. He gasped, his chest heaving as he turned away. His college and adult years were dotted with her absences and her postcards to him from exotic locales filled a dozen shoeboxes. He lived through that. He lived through Mom being a devoted, but somewhat absentee, grandmother to his three kids. He lived through static and crackling international phone calls on birthdays and holidays. But now, the _one_ time he needed Mom to be here, she wasn't. He spun back around to Gregory and ran a trembling hand through his hair.

Gregory watched him closely before he nodded slightly. "No," he said, his voice clipped. Sadness wrinkled across his face as he cleared his throat. "No, she's not."

He watched as the older man turned away, his hands deep in his pockets, as he looked back out at the horizon. "Did you love her?" he asked, so desperate to know. He couldn't help it. "At all?" He watched Gregory stiffen, noticing the way his jaw line sharpened.

"I did," he said quietly, but firmly. "But, I don't think it would have worked – the two of us. We were too different. Our differences made us great friends, but anything more than that would have failed. I'd like to think she knew that."

Casey was quiet, thinking about the entries Mom devoted to Gregory in her journals over the years. Maybe she _did_ know that. She loved him. He loved her. But, in the end, it was futile. Gregory moved on and Mom eventually enjoyed a rousing second act after she divorced John. Mom always said everything always ended up the way it was supposed to, as if a divine plan somehow charted the course of their lives. He looked up, seeing their wives and a blonde teenager watching them from the door. Diana's concerned gaze crackled through the glass and surrounded him, a balm to the pressure in his chest. "What do we do now?" he asked, his eyes dancing over the blonde teenager. His youngest sister.

Gregory turned to him. "What do _you_ want to do?"

* * *

Olivia's arm was snug around her daughter as they looked out at the patio. Evy's head fell to her shoulder and she drew her in, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. To her right, she heard Diana's armful of bangled bracelets jingle as she folded her arms against her chest. "I don't think Casey's slept more than a few hours each night since John's will was read," she heard her say. She nodded as Evy shifted against her. That was easy to see. The poor man looked devastated, furious, and exhausted – all at the same time.

"When will you go home?" she murmured.

"Tomorrow afternoon." She turned, her eyes sharp. "My mother is staying with our kids, but she needs to get home to her husband."

She felt Evy's head perk and a moment later, she looked over at Diana. "Will you come back to visit with them?" the teenager asked.

"I- I don't know."

Olivia heard the bewilderment in her response. She didn't know because her husband didn't know. Diana was devoted to her husband. She was on _his_ side. "Look," she heard Evy say and she raised her eyes. Gregory and Casey were walking to the house, nearing the French doors of the kitchen. Heading straight for them. "Geeze, could I look any more like a train wreck?" Evy muttered as she smoothed down the flyaway wisps of blonde. Olivia couldn't help the small smile which came to her face. Despite everything that happened today, her daughter still had her vanity.

She watched one of the doors open and her husband stepped through, followed by Casey. She caught his gaze and was comforted to see the weight, which had been clouding his brown eyes, was gone. An indescribable, but barely-there, smile was on his face as he explained, "Casey wanted to meet Evy."

She glanced over, seeing the small grin break up their daughter's exhausted expression. Gregory came to her side as they watched Evy take Casey's extended hand. A moment later, she pulled his arm and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his torso. The breath caught in her throat as Diana's small gasp filled the silence. As they watched Casey's eyes close and his arms come up to hug her back, she felt Gregory take her hand.

A moment later, she felt him squeeze it gently.

She inhaled sharply, with tears in her eyes, as she squeezed back.

* * *

 _A/N: The title of this chapter is inspired by a line from Evelyn Waugh's "Brideshead Revisited"._


	7. Alex

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Seven: "Alex"

 _One week later_

"Dad, there's someone here for you."

Gregory nodded, standing slowly as he read the last two sentences of the contract. "Who is it?" he murmured as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's one of those courier guys," Evy said as he came around the desk and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"So, has _he_ called again today?"

"I _don't_ want to talk about Ryan," she said sternly. He sighed and nodded, hearing Olivia's voice in his head. _That stubbornness? She gets it from_ _you_ _._ He would never admit it, not even to Olivia, but he was somewhat impressed by the teenage boy's attempts to make amends with his daughter. As they walked down the hall, he squeezed her shoulder and said, "Take it from me: hear him out."

Her head spun as she looked at him accusingly. "You mean, _forgive_ him?" she exclaimed.

"Did I say that?" She rolled her eyes and turned to face him, her arms folded tight against her chest. By the door, the young courier shifting anxiously as he waited, but he ignored him. He gestured her closer and dropped his voice as he admitted, "The one thing I know is that it was always better when I listened to your mother and didn't just rush to shut her out." She opened her mouth in rebuttal, but then slowly closed it. While she didn't know everything – and would _never_ know – he knew she _had_ to know something changed between her parents a week ago. _Someday_. Someday wouldn't exist until he could look at Evy and not have to remind himself, _She's my daughter. Mine._

"Dad-"

But, he loved his wife. Despite everything, he couldn't imagine a life without Olivia. He loved the family she gave him. But, the betrayal was still raw, a constant shadow to their lives. And, maybe it would be for the rest of their days. "Just…listen."

"Hey, man. I've got, like, nine _other_ drops to make."

Gregory went over to the courier and took the tablet he held out. He scratched out his signature on the touchscreen and ignored the bored expression on the kid's face. "Better get to it," he said as he snatched the legal sized envelope. The kid rolled his eyes and tucked the tablet into the back pocket of his jeans as he sauntered out. He closed the door behind him and turned back, seeing Evy gazing down at her phone. "Listen," he reminded her, kissing her head as he walked back down the hall to his study.

The study was quiet as he reached for the silver letter opener and wedged it beneath the flap. He pulled out a thick piece of paper, embossed with the logo of a reputable law firm in the center at the top. But, it was the smaller fatter envelope paper clipped to the letter which stopped him cold. He gazed down at his name, Alex's unique handwriting leaping off the pale yellow envelope. He wandered back to his chair, sighing deeply as he sat. The thick envelope was an unbearable weight in his hands as his eyes danced over the letter from the law firm. The Times New Roman typeface calmly explained that Alex requested this letter be delivered to him after John's death. That could only mean one thing.

There was only _one_ secret she would wait until after John's death to share.

He looked back down at the yellow envelope, taking the letter opener to it. A sheaf of paper unfolded neatly, his eyes scanning the words encased within the green vines of the perimeter. All the questions from the last week bubbled to the surface of his mind, simmering like a hot pot on the stove. All the anger. All the desperation. All the devastation.

 _Gregory,_

 _It's so cliché to write this, but if you're reading this, then I'm dead. I always knew that my days on this earth were numbered. You can't receive the diagnosis I did and_ _not_ _know. But, I tried not to let that stop me. I never wanted my illness to define me. I wanted my life to define my illness and it was going to be lived to the fullest. I was going to cherish my time with my son and my grandchildren. I was going to laugh. I was going to be happy. I wasn't going to think about what lay ahead._

 _If you're reading this, then John is also dead. You'll say it was stupidly sentimental – and that he never deserved my sentiments – that I waited for him to die before I sent this. But, I was thinking of Casey, not John. You know how cruel John could be. If he's dead, then Casey is spared from his reaction to this. Casey suffered enough from him. Years of emotional cruelty and disinterest during his childhood and teenage years was enough hurt to last a lifetime. Sometimes, I wonder if I would've done things differently if I knew what kind of father John would be to Casey. But, then I remembered: that kind of thinking never got me anywhere._

 _You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Do you remember? Our night together?_

 _It started off as a party, all of my old friends gathered together at the house. John was away. That was the only way I could have the party. My friends were "too bohemian" for his staid life. Of course,_ _I_ _was too bohemian for him, but I didn't realize that for another few years. Anyway, he was gone, the music was on, and laughter filled the quiet rooms of his respectable mansion. It felt so good to be surrounded by fun and happiness. I felt like myself again. How was it that you ended up being the last one there? You, who always had some glamorous girlfriend hanging on your arm, came alone and I remember being so happy to see you. You had just won some important case and it had been the first time in several weeks that we'd seen each other._

 _John was gone. I was free. You were victorious. We were on top of the world. We were happy. I talked to you like I used to in the old days, before John. You teased me for still listening to Pet Sounds. We drank too much. I took you into my bed – John's bed – and never looked back. Never regretted it. Not even when I found out a month later that I was pregnant with your child._

 _As you read this, I'm not blind to the fact that you'll be upset with me. You looked at me, asking, and I shook my head, denying you. Are you asking why? Why I shook my head? If I were you,_ _I'd_ _be asking that._

 _You loved me. I knew that. But you weren't_ _in_ _love with me. I knew that too._

 _I knew that you were my baby's father, but I never wanted anyone's pity. If you knew you were my baby's father, you would never have let him be raised by John. You would have insisted I divorce John and marry you. But, your pride would've made that decision, not your heart. And, in time, you would've come to resent it. Me. Maybe even our son. You weren't in love with me. If I was too bohemian for John, I was also too bohemian for_ _you_ _. We would've destroyed each other._

 _So, I shook my head. I let you go. I stayed with John and raised our son with him._

 _If you're asking yourself, "Was I really the person Alex just described?", the answer is_ _yes_ _. It's who you were. You were driven, headstrong, and insanely stubborn. I knew I made the right decision when Casey was nearly three. I saw you at the Fourth of July party at the country club. We hadn't seen each other much the last few years. Your career had exploded. I was busy with my toddler. I loved Casey, but I was happy for a night out_ _without_ _him. To be with other adults. It was nice to be dressed up, have a drink in my hand, and have a conversation that didn't involve "Mama", "baba", or endless games of patty cake. You were there with your new girlfriend, a gorgeous brunette whose side you never left. You introduced us and I watched you with Olivia. The way you looked at her. The way you smiled at her. The way she leaned back against your chest, your arms around her as the fireworks exploded above us. The way you lowered your face to her hair, nuzzling her throat._

 _You loved me, but you were in love with her. And, I knew I was right to shake my head._

 _Now, I'm dead. John's dead. And, my son –_ _our_ _son – is alone. He's married a lovely girl named Diana and they've got three beautiful children. Can you believe that, Gregory? We've got_ _grandchildren_ _. Casey has his own family. But, we're nothing without our parents. You know that better than anyone. There's something about a parent's love that is different from any other love we have. It's safe. It's comforting. It sustains us._

 _So, please Gregory, love him. Love him for me. Don't blame him for the decision I made. Don't blame him because I shook my head. Someday, you'll see I was right. Things don't always turn out the way we plan, but they always work out in the end. Always._

 _And, last…let Casey love you. Because he will. There's_ _so_ _much love in our boy. He has so much heart._

 _I think he gets that from you._

 _All my love,  
_ _Alex_

* * *

Casey sighed, wiping his arm across his forehead. The thick Bermuda grass crunched beneath his feet as he walked from the dock up to the house. Nicola, his youngest child, skipped alongside him, her long blonde pigtails swinging merrily. "Daddy," she asked, her pink fishing pole dangling over her shoulder, "can I help clean the fish?"

He shook his head, holding the basket of the fish they caught. "Not today. Today you can just watch. But, I'll teach you when you're older." She was short for her age and he knew she would have trouble holding the heavy knives properly.

She sighed deeply and slowed down, her cheeks puffing out. "Ohhhhkay." She looked up at him, squinting, as she fiddled with the strap of her bathing suit. "Can I help grill the fish then?"

He nodded, grinning down at her. "Sure thing." They walked up to the porch and Nicola passed him her fishing pole before she ran into the house. Allie was laying on the porch swing, bopping her head in time with the music coming out of her ear buds. "Hey!" he called out, standing still as he waited for her to look over. "ALEXANDRA!"

Several moments later, she glanced up, rolled her eyes, and pulled out the right bud. "What?" she asked, staring him down.

"Being grounded means staying in the house," he pointed out.

Another eye roll. "The porch _is_ the house. It's attached."

"Inside. Now." He ignored the way she glared before she pushed herself up and flounced into the house. "And, don't slam the door," he shouted after her, unsurprised five seconds later when she slammed her bedroom door shut.

"Allie slammed the door, Daddy."

He sighed, leaning the fishing poles and net against the door jamb with the basket as he walked into the house. The wood shutters kept out the heat from the Florida sun and the ceiling fans circulated the air throughout the hacienda-style house. "Thank you, Nicola. I heard," he said passing through the living room into the kitchen. He stood at the sink, washing his hands, as Harrison wandered over. "What's up, buddy?"

"Jesse and Tyler are coming over. Can we take the bass boat out?"

He nodded, wiping his hands on the green dishcloth. "No further than the basin," he said and the thirteen-year-old nodded. "Home by six too."

"Six! Aww, man! C'mon, Dad!"

" _Six_."

"Fine. Whatever," he sighed, shaking his head as he walked off.

He reached into the fridge, grabbed a beer, and leaned against the counter as he cracked it open. No one ever told him and Diana that having two unruly teenagers would make them question their decision to have children. He glanced over at Nicola, who kneeled on one of the stools as she played a game on the tablet. It was probably just a matter of time before she became as ornery as her older sister, but for now, she was still the sweet baby of the family. He sighed, listening to the silence as he gazed at the fridge. An unmatched collection of magnets held up school photos of the kids, artwork, and report cards. The gallery of their lives. His eyes moved up to the corner where a printed copy of the selfie Evy took of them hung.

 _She pressed against him and held out her arm, her white iPhone in her palm. "Sheesh, you're tall," she giggled as she adjusted the way she held it. But, a moment later, both their faces were captured in the screen and she touched the icon, the image frozen for all time. She looked over at him, her puffy eyes wide. She smiled bashfully and he couldn't help but return the expression._

 _"Email it to me."_

 _She rolled her eyes as if it was the most pathetic thing she ever heard. "Casey, no one emails anything anymore. I'll tag you on Insta."_

"Oh, hey." He looked up as Harrison stood in the doorway, poised to leave. "A package-thing came for you. Allie signed for it." He gestured with his chin to the stack of mail on the kitchen table. "Catch ya later."

"Six o'clock," he called out, choosing to ignore whatever his son swore beneath his breath. He set the bottle on the table as he collapsed into the chair, grabbing the top envelope. He took another long swig of his beer as he ripped it open and dumped the contents on the table. The pale yellow envelope landed face-up on the green table cloth and he sucked in his breath, seeing his name in Mom's handwriting.

"Here, Daddy," Nicola said, tugging on his arm as she carefully held out his ringing cell phone. Gregory's name flashed on the screen and he took the device from his daughter as his head swam. He touched the answer icon and held the phone to his ear. "Gregory," he gasped. "I- I got a letter from Mom."

* * *

Olivia brushed the tears from her eyes and looked up slowly. Gregory stood quietly at the foot of the bed, his hands deep in his pockets as he watched her read Alex's letter. With a sigh, she shook her head and forced herself to sit up. "Are you alright?" she asked softly. She patted the bed, unsure what he would do. Nothing was fixed in a week. He wouldn't forgive her betrayal in seven days. _Someday_. That day was _not_ today. He sighed deeply and finally moved closer to sit next to her on the bed. She watched him closely as their eyes met. He was pale, Alex's letter no doubt jolting his world _further_ from its axis. "Hmm?" she asked, touching his knee.

"She always knew what she was doing," he murmured, his eyes unblinking. She nodded, but said nothing. He chuckled ruefully, one that segued into a long and deep exhale. "She was right."

"Right about what?"

"That we would've destroyed each other."

She broke their stare as she bit the corner of her lip and looked back down at the letter. He ended up destroyed in the end though, didn't he? Only, _she_ was the instrument of destruction, not Alex. The delicate stationery creased within her grip and she cleared her throat as she lay it gently between them. Her vision danced, the vines on the border of the paper blurring as she blinked back tears. "I remember when you introduced us," she whispered. It was on America's Independence Day when she finally met Alex. Though she and Gregory had only been dating for a few months, it quickly became serious. She had all but moved into his apartment at the marina club. She spent every night there. She knew it was only a matter of time before he proposed. With a bashful smile, she looked back at him. "I was afraid of meeting her."

His face turned, confusion rippling across his expression. "Why?"

She shrugged, remembering the way nerves fluttered through her body that night. "I knew she was…special. A friend, but somehow, more."

Gregory watched her for a long moment, saying nothing. Her hand trembled against his knee as his fingers slowly entwined hers. "She liked you the moment she met you," he said quietly, looking down at their clasped hands. A moment later, he chuckled shortly and slowly turned his back eyes up to her. "Said it was about time I settled down."

She inched closer to him, nodding. "She _was_ right," she whispered. She squeezed his hand, getting his attention, as she continued, "If you knew she was pregnant, you would've married _her_." He sighed and shook his head, even as she nodded. That her own marriage hinged on Alex's decision was not a momentous irony lost on her. We think our decisions are our own. But, really, they are the confluence of other people's actions and decisions that present themselves before us. "Darling," she murmured, "if you knew she was pregnant, you _never_ would've let someone else raise your child." Your son. She inhaled sharply as she continued, "Just-just as you never would've raised someone _else's_ child."

His face fell, that too familiar pain rearing its head. _Someday_ was still a long way from where they sat, fractured and reeling in their bedroom. He shook his head and looked away. She knew he despised predictability, though he himself was a creature of a habit. Nothing annoyed him more than someone telling him what he would've done…especially when it was an _accurate_ prediction. She sniffed and blinked, moving away from _that_ topic, as she asked, "What did Casey's letter say?"

He cleared his throat and she felt the way his hand quaked against hers. "It wasn't much different." He sighed, gazing vacantly at the window. "It gave him the answers he wanted."

"Closure, perhaps?"

He looked over and rolled his eyes. "Closure is a Madison Avenue word," he grunted and she bit back a smile. In that moment, it was the most like himself he sounded in the last seven days.

"Peace, then?"

"I suppose," he murmured as he reached for the letter. She watched as he folded the pages back into thirds and pushed it away. If only everything could be tidied up as neatly. A moment later, he grimaced as he leaned forward slightly, his hand pressed to his lower back. She frowned, hearing the bones of his spine crack and pop. Stress _always_ manifested in his back.

Slowly – with a hint of hesitation – she moved against him as she pressed the heel of her palm into his lower back. She heard him inhale sharply and her lips danced against his left ear as she whispered, "Your back has been killing you for days." He said nothing as he looked over and winced, her hand hitting a tender spot. "Sorry," she said quickly, easing up on the pressure. "Try to relax."

Several seconds went by before he acquiesced. His head came forward before he turned slightly to her. Her left arm was wrapped around the front of his body, holding herself steady, as her right hand fought to soothe the tension flaming through his back. "Do you know that Caity, Sean, and Evy talk to Casey every day?"

He half-glanced up, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. "No."

She nodded, hugging him closer. "Text messages," she explained, her left hand molding to his right shoulder. The setting sunlight caught the diamond of her engagement ring, sending a rainbow of light across the walls and ceiling. "The four of them are on a group chat." He nodded, but said nothing else. It really wasn't _that_ surprising. Caitlin, Sean, and Evy were extraordinarily close. It was only natural they would immediately seek to include Casey. "I suppose he does want a relationship with them after all," she said softly, remembering Caitlin's question from a week ago. "And you."

He sighed and winced. Of course, this was agony for him. The newness of it. The fact that he didn't plan any of this. That it forced him to open up about what he was feeling. Her hand came to a slow stop before she wrapped her right arm around him. That he didn't flinch within her embrace was cause for an internal sigh of relief. She rested her head against his, her lips brushing against his ear. "Time," she whispered. "You just need time." Time to recover from me. Time to come to terms with Casey.

"We need to get away," he murmured, shocking her.

"Away?"

He nodded, reaching up to rub his face as he turned to her. "You and I." Her head went back, stunned into silence. Things were different between them now. They still shared a bed. They still spoke. But, an invisible shift opened between them a week ago. A still moving fault line that caused tension and, more terrifying, _pain_ to flare up at a moment's notice. She began to slowly shake her head, when he reached for her shoulders, squeezing them gently. " _We_ need time."

 _I do love you. But, I can't-_ She didn't think she'd ever forget the sound of his broken voice in that moment. Not as long as she lived. She watched him carefully, the thicker grey in his hair giving her pause. Hadn't time away always been the fix for them when they were younger and mutually destructive to each other and their marriage? The boat, Carmel, Palm Springs, the Caribbean... He _always_ whisked her away, refusing to share themselves with anyone, not even the children. She instantly remembered the night she told him she was pregnant with Evy. _I won't – I can't – keep talking about this. Not this weekend. Not ever. I just want…a fresh start._ How he could _will_ himself into putting all of the pain her affair with Del caused behind him. Behind _them_. Couldn't her current betrayal be put behind them too? Someday? She nodded slowly and when he smiled back, it reminded her so forcefully of the way he looked when she accepted his marriage proposal that her heart skipped. "Where?" she asked, swallowing hard as his hands traveled down her arms to find her own hands. She laced her fingers through his, squeezing firmly.

"Where do _you_ want to go?"

She didn't even need a moment to think. It was _their_ city. The place where they started their life as husband and wife. The only place that ever meant anything to them. "Florence," she whispered over the crack in her own voice. A moment later, she reached out, wrapping her arms around him. Her eyes closed a moment later when his arms enfolded her as he hugged her back.

* * *

 _Just over ten years ago_

Alex sighed and looked down, the end of the pen caught thoughtfully between her teeth. If it wasn't her life, she might have said this was taking the chicken shit way out. Not saying anything face-to-face to either of them. Letting them wonder. Answering the obvious questions – the how, the why. But, if they had other _less_ obvious questions to ask, they'd be waiting for the rest of their lives to get answers. She's not sure she believes in an afterlife. But, if her Catholic mother's stories were right, she hopes to be there at St. Peter's side when Gregory and Casey pass through the heavenly gates. Then, she'll answer all their questions until the end of time.

She folded Casey's letter and slipped it into its envelope. The pen nib scratched against the thick envelope as she wrote out his name, the tail of the Y extended to underline his name. Her lawyer knows when to send them to Gregory and their son. It's for the best this way. Her conscience, which has at time weighed her down at times when she thought of them, finally feels at peace. Time isn't on her side and her body is failing. She doesn't think she'll make it to summer. She'd like to die with the clearest conscience possible.

She pushed both sealed envelopes aside and stood, grimacing as she braced the desk. The pain nearly knocked her over and she closed her eyes, waiting for it to pass. Narcotics only did so much. It wouldn't be long before she'd be attached to an I.V., morphine pulsing through her veins on a regular basis to numb the pain. When the roar in her ears subsided, she opened her eyes and sighed. The Left Bank lay before her, glittering in the afternoon sun. Spring time in Paris was her favorite time of the year. Maybe later, if she could manage it, she would walk along the Boulevard Saint-Germain in the shade of the budding trees.

Casey wanted her to come home, arguing something ridiculous about not trusting French doctors. He wanted her to check herself into a hospital in Miami, where he, Diana, and the children could be close. But, she's not ready. She will be soon, but not yet.

She sighed and reached for her red wine. With these letters written and sealed, her affairs were now in order. There was nothing else to worry about. There was nothing else to fret over. It was like Piaf sang: _Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs, je n'ai plus besoin d'eux_. She raised the glass to her lips and sighed as she watched herself in the window's reflection. " _My troubles, my pleasures, I don't need them anymore_ ," she murmured, her voice nowhere near as lush as Piaf's.

They would have each other.

Her son would still have a parent.

That gave her peace.

* * *

 _A/N: The lyrics – in French and English - are from "Non, je ne regrette rien" (composed by Charles Dumont, lyrics by Michel Vaucaire)._


	8. West Coast, Best Coast

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Eight: "West Coast, Best Coast"

 _December 21, 2015_

"So, like…do we have to call him Grandpa?"

Casey gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as his son's question echoed in the interior of their SUV. The leather seat hissed as Diana turned around and he heard her say, "Harrison, we talked about this. You can call him _Gregory_."

Just when he thought his children understood the changes in their family tree, the questions had come back with a roaring vengeance in the last day or so. They were going to Sunset Beach to spend Christmas and New Year's with his new family. With his father. He blinked, Harrison's reply a hollow echo as he blindly gazed out at the bumper-to-bumper traffic. He was in constant contact with his three siblings since the truth was revealed. He emailed Gregory on a daily basis. So, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised when the invitation to Christmas came. But…he _was_. He couldn't help it. Now that the trip was here and they were roughly 25 minutes from Miami International Airport, he felt the old anxiety come back. The kids and their never-ending questions weren't helping. He felt Diana's hand on his thigh and he forced himself to smile. "We're going to have a great time, kids," he heard himself say. He couldn't help but wince at how fake his enthusiasm sounded. Surely, they _all_ heard it.

"Daddy? I was wondering something…" Nicola's tentative question caused his eyes to raise to the rearview mirror. God. _More_ questions. He locked eyes with his youngest daughter as she asked, "Are you _sure_ Santa will know we'll be somewhere else for Christmas?" Thank you, _God_. A question he could handle.

"Sheesh, Nic," Allie murmured as she gazed out the window.

He nodded and smiled. "Of course, he does. He knows everything, remember?" She nodded and pulled her knees up to her chest, sandwiched in the middle of the backseat between her two older siblings.

"See?" he heard Diana murmur and he glanced over. "They'll be fine."

He nodded and turned back to the road. By the end of the day, they would be in California. They would be with his family. Wasn't that how it was _supposed_ to be? Isn't that what all families did?

Diana's phone chimed and she glanced down, swiping at the screen. "It's from Cait. She and Charlie just got on the road. She thinks they've timed it so they'll be arriving around the same time as us."

He nodded as he glanced over his shoulder at his blind spot. "That's something like an eight-hour drive from Sonoma County." He glanced up at the rear view mirror. "What do you think, kids? It's not too late to drive to California."

"Eww, yeah right," Allie scoffed as Harrison replied, "Negative."

"I think it would be fun, Daddy," Nicola said, causing Harrison to suck his lips. "Stop, Harrison! Mommy, Harrison said I'm being a kiss-up!"

He rolled his eyes. In spite of everything, some things didn't change.

* * *

Gregory opened his eyes slowly, Olivia's back pressed against his chest. He sighed and closed his eyes again as he hugged her closer. The bedroom was quiet, just the sound of her breathing filling the silence. He savored it, knowing it was only going to last a few more hours. They were all arriving later today. All the children and grandchildren under one roof. For the first time. He opened his eyes slightly, thinking of Casey and his three children. Three grandchildren he's never even met. He and Casey had spoken on the phone only once since Alex's letters arrived. _Gregory, I- I got a letter from Mom._ They spoke at length that day, sharing the letters Alex had written to each of them. But, that was their only call. The one-sided nature of daily emails was an easier way for them to communicate.

 _"Darling, don't say it like that: 'Olivia would like it if you and your family joined us for Christmas'." She leaned over him, pointing at the laptop's screen. "Say, 'Olivia_ _and I_ _would like you and your family to join us for Christmas'." She placed her hand on the back of his neck and squeezed gently as she looked down at him. "He has to know_ _you_ _want him to come."_

Olivia stretched against him and he heard the change in her breathing. "Good morning," she yawned a moment later, pressing back into him.

His arms tightened around her as he drew her closer, feeling the way she burrowed into his chest. Three weeks in Florence hadn't fixed everything between them. It couldn't. But, it _had_ given them a new start. "Sleep well?" he asked as he opened his eyes for the second time.

She nodded and glanced back over her shoulder. Her blue eyes were still dulled over with sleep and exhaustion. "Well enough," she sighed as she leaned up to kiss him.

"You do realize," he murmured against her lips, "that this is the last time we'll be able to wake up like this for the next two weeks." Their twin granddaughters were fond of crawling into their bed in the mornings when they came to visit.

She smiled as she rolled into him, their chests pressing together. "Not so different from when the children were small," she murmured as he turned onto his back. A moment later, she curled against him, her head on his shoulder.

He looked down, nodding through a yawn. "Our children knew to knock though," he replied as his fingers combed through her hair. A moment later, she chuckled softly and he felt the lazy smile come to his face. It was true though. Their children _never_ stepped foot in their bedroom without knocking if the door was closed.

She pushed herself up, her eyes swollen with exhaustion as she gazed back at him. He reached out and caught her hand as she suggested, "They had to. The odds were higher we'd traumatize them."

He rolled his eyes and gave her hand a gentle tug. A moment later, she leaned back against him, her forearms against his chest. "And now?" he asked, his voice low.

With a seemingly innocent shrug, she offered a simple answer. "We're respectable grandparents now."

He scoffed beneath his breath as he watched her eyebrow arch. As a smirk curled her mouth, he muttered, "Grandparents, yes. I don't know about respectable."

She rolled her own eyes and shook her head. The back of his hand followed the line of her jaw, his fingers lightly circling her chin as she sighed, "It sounded better than 'old'."

He chuckled softly as she curled back into the nook of his shoulder. "Most things do," he sighed. When an easy silence fell between them, his thoughts immediately returned to Casey and his family. They were expected to arrive first. Evy, who had bonded almost immediately to Casey, was thrilled and could barely contain her excitement. Olivia was confident Caitlin and Sean were similarly looking forward to spending the holiday with their newfound brother. He sighed deeply, unable to shake the ominous feeling churning low in his belly.

"Darling?" He looked down, hearing Olivia soft voice. She placed her hand over his heart and gazed deeply into his eyes. "It's going to be fine," she whispered and he forced himself to nod.

"Yes."

"It _will_ be." She smiled as he covered her hand with his own. "Rose wrapped the present. I asked her to leave it in your study."

He nodded again and squeezed her hand.

* * *

Evy glanced up as the doorbell rang and she pushed herself up from the sofa. "They're here!" she shouted in the direction of the patio before she moved to the door. Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she pulled open the heavy front door. Casey, his wife, and their children looked back at her and she couldn't help the wide grin on her face. "You're finally here!" she exclaimed as she threw her arms around Casey. His strong arms encircled her, squeezing tight as she looked up at him.

"What happened to you?" he asked as he stepped into the foyer.

She rolled her eyes and glared down at the splint on her left wrist. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a sprain. I came down on it wrong after some defender flattened me last night," she explained as she reached out to hug Diana. "I'll be back on the pitch in a few weeks."

He nodded and turned to his children. "Kids, this is Evy. She's my younger sister."

Her throat tightened as she listened to the introductions of the nieces and nephew she's only seen pictures of up until this moment. _My younger sister._ She's been Caitlin and Sean's younger sister her entire life. But, now she was _his_ younger sister too. She smiled at the children, even as she felt Allie and Harrison eyeing her warily. "It's so awesome you're all here for Christmas!" she exclaimed, smiling down at Nicola. The little girl smiled bashfully and stepped closer to Casey. " _And_ , you're the first ones here, which means you get to call dibs on the beds and air mattresses. Cait's sitting in traffic in Bakersfield and Sean's isn't flying in until later tonight."

As Diana turned, directing the children to start bringing in the luggage from the rental car, Casey stepped closer and asked, "Where's- where's Gregory?"

She knocked her head in the direction of the patio. "Outside. Mom bought some statue for the garden when she and Dad were in Florence last month. It just got delivered." He nodded and glanced up, watching the open doors which led to the patio. She bit the corner of her lip, wondering if he'd ever call him _Dad_ too. As she watched his face tense up, she glanced over her shoulder as her parents came into the house. She sighed. If that was his reaction, it might be awhile before he called him _Dad_.

A _long_ while.

"Casey, welcome," Mom said as she hugged him briefly. "Happy Christmas."

He nodded, an apprehensive smile on his face as he said Mom's name. She hung back, watching as Dad extended his hand and stepped closer, saying something softly to him. Casey nodded and leaned in, replying. She caught Mom's eye and smiled hopefully. Mom winked back and moved closer to Dad, her hand pressed against the small of his back.

Maybe not _that_ long.

She watched quietly as Allie came back in, lugging a large quilted duffle bag. It was so weird having a niece just three years younger than herself. It was even weirder to think that Greg wasn't Dad's first grandchild anymore, she realized as she watched Casey introduce Allie to her parents.

"-no one calls me _Alex_ though," she heard Allie say with a giggle, "and I'm  only _Alexandra_ when I'm in trouble."

"Same," she said, making eye contact and smiling. "It's not a good thing when I'm _Evelyn_ …and it's even worse if I'm _Evelyn Frances_." The younger girl smiled back and she beckoned her to follow. "You're going to sleep in my room," she explained as she led her up the stairs. "It's the only kid-free place in the whole house, other than Dad and Mom's offices."

"Cool. My dad said there was a lot of people staying here this Christmas."

She nodded as they turned onto the second floor. "Yup, total full house situation. Nineteen people in all." The whole family, together for the first time. She glanced over her shoulder and smirked, "Thank _God_ the house is big enough."

"Totally."

"So, have you ever been to Sunset Beach before?"

"Only once, when I was six. But, that's it."

She nodded as they walked into her bedroom. "It's a cool place. Really chill."

"My dad hasn't stopped going on about the sunsets," she sighed and she glanced over her shoulder in time to see the slightly younger girl roll her eyes. A decidedly _Richards_ trait, she thought.

"Well, they _are_ pretty epic. After all, West Coast, best coast." She gestured to the inflatable mattress on the floor. "I saved the newest one for you."

"Thanks." Allie dropped her bag onto the floor and flopped belly-down onto the mattress.

She sat on the foot of her bed, gently resting her injured wrist on her lap. "So…this is weird. Right?"

"Totes." She glanced over, watching as Allie leaned up and rested on her forearms. Her eyes flickered over to her and she forced a polite, but small, smile. "I just met my real grandfather for the first time. And, no offense, you're my aunt, but you're only…what? A few years older than me?"

"I'm 18," she said, folding her arms beneath her head. "You can just call me _Evy_." She nodded and she had a feeling Allie would've just called her by her name even if she hadn't said anything. That was fine. It was a hella awkward situation. "Want to go to a party with me tonight?" she asked. "My friend, Christian, always throws them for all the holidays. It's kind of his thing."

She glanced up, her surprised expression giving way to a beam. "Ok."

* * *

Olivia leaned against the door jamb, her hair stirring in the strong salty breeze blowing across the patio. The sound of fighting children echoed from behind her, but she didn't turn around. Let Caity or Shasta worry about it. Instead, she was focused on the scene before her. Gregory was down on the second level of the patio, just beyond the shallow steps, supervising Harrison and Greg's putting. She was too far away to hear what they were saying, but it didn't matter. She could see just fine.

She shivered and folded her arms across her chest as Gregory crouched low, adjusting Harrison's stance. She blinked her eyes behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses, her throat tight as she watched them. Of course, no one knew what to expect when Casey and his family joined them for Christmas. Gregory would _never_ admit it, but the anticipation of their arrival ate away at him. Patience had never been a strong suit of his, though he had gotten better with age. He hadn't slept well in days. But now, seeing this and the way Casey and his family melted in with their children and grandchildren, she could breathe a sigh of relief. It was all going to be fine, she realized as she inhaled sharply.

Someone cleared their throat and she looked up. Casey. She smiled and held her index finger to her lips. He nodded and stood next to her, looking out at the patio. She heard him chuckle and a moment later, he explained, "Harrison's never held a golf club before in his life."

She smiled, pulling the thick shawl tighter around her. "He seems to be enjoying himself though." She turned to him and explained, "None of the children play with Gregory. Caitlin doesn't like sport at all. Sean's tried golf, but he gets too frustrated. Evy thinks it's boring."

"And you?"

She shook her head. "I can't stand it. You?"

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as his eyes turned up to hers. "I think scraping barnacles off my boat is more interesting."

She chuckled and turned back to the patio. "Well, then. It seems Gregory will continue to be grateful for his grandsons' company on the links." Grandsons. A silence stretched between them and, a moment later, she could feel Casey's eyes on her. She glanced back at him and reached up, slowly pulling off her sunglasses. Without the tint of the dark lenses, she could suddenly see the hesitation swirling in his crystal blue eyes. "I think Gregory makes you nervous, but I think I make you _more_ nervous."

"Yes. I mean, _no_ ," he said quickly. "I mean, I just…"

She swallowed the half-smile on her lips and reached out, touching his upper arm. "I'm very happy you're here," she said softly. He just continued to watch her, skepticism written across his face. "I don't think I have it in me to be your wicked stepmother." He jerked his head – an attempt at a nod? – and gazed at her as she continued, "I don't have it in me to resent you either."

He sighed and looked back out at Gregory and his son. She followed his gaze as he said, "I don't know if I belong here." She turned sharply, watching quietly, as he continued, "I'm here, but…it doesn't feel real."

"Of course, you belong _here_ ," she marveled. "You're Gregory's son. You're my children's brother. You're…you're part of our family." She exhaled slowly and smiled, watching calmness wash over his face as her words sunk in. "As for Gregory," she continued, turning back to look at her husband, "don't be nervous. He's not a bad man." Casey stepped closer and she glanced sideways at him. "People like to _think_ he is because he's intimidating, but they don't really know him." She reached for his hand and squeezed gently. He looked up and when their eyes met, she continued, "I've loved Gregory since I was nineteen." She faltered momentarily, realizing the math. She had spent more years sharing her life with Gregory than her childhood years in England he wasn't a part of. _He_ and their family were the sum of her life. She looked back up at Casey and whispered, "Believe me when I say no one knows how to love deeper or harder than _him_."

" _Pizza is here!"_

" _PIZZA!"_

" _Mine's the one with vegan cheese and meatless sausage!"_

She squeezed his hand again before she gently let it go. He nodded slowly as the boys ran up to the house. "Hey, Dad!" Harrison exclaimed. "Gregory says I've got the right posture for golf."

She wrapped her arm around Greg's shoulders as Casey clapped his son's back. "That's great, buddy!"

"We're going to play golf in the morning at the country club," he added and she smiled as Casey nodded. "Me, Gregory, and Greg."

"Let's go tell Mom," he said, leading his son back into the house.

Greg hung back at her side for a moment and looked up at her. "I like Harrison, Nana," he announced with a grin.

She smiled and leaned down, kissing the boy's sandy blonde head. "I'm so glad, darling. Now, go in and get some dinner." He nodded and disappeared into the house. A moment later, she felt Gregory's arm slip around her waist. She leaned against him, her face turned into his throat, as they stood quietly, listening to the echo of their family from the open kitchen and dining room doors. "Greg likes Harrison," she murmured.

"They got on well," he replied and she looked up. She saw his crooked smile and she sighed.

They were all going to be fine.

* * *

Casey swallowed hard as he followed Gregory into his study. He glanced around, immediately overwhelmed by the walls of shelves, crammed full with thick books. It reminded him of John's office in the house he grew up in. He only went into that room when he was in trouble. Gregory's voice ripped him from his memories and the old associations with home offices. "Sorry?"

Gregory glanced over his shoulder and repeated, "Drink?"

What the hell? "Sure," he said as his body folded into one of the arm chairs next to the desk. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest. He didn't know why he was here. It was after dinner, when they were all making their way onto the patio, that he heard Gregory say, "Casey, step into my study for a moment." Nervously, he rubbed his mouth, trying in vain to shake off the feeling that he was somehow in trouble. _Don't be nervous. He's not a bad man._ He rolled his neck, listening to the small bones pop as Gregory turned around, holding out a crystal tumbler. He held it up, examining the dark amber liquid as Gregory leaned against the desk. He chuckled and admitted, "I'm usually more of a beer drinker."

Gregory glanced down at his own glass before he looked back up, their eyes meeting. "Do you want one?"

He shook his head, already feeling as if he was failing some invisible test. "No, no. This is…fine."

"It's no trouble. We-"

"Really." He held up his glass in a mock-toast, somewhat disgusted to see the ripples in the scotch as his hand trembled. "Bottom's up."

Gregory watched him closely as he flashed a half-smile. "That was Alex's toast."

He nodded, his entire throat and chest enflamed in warmth as he swallowed the scotch. "Quickest way to drain your glass-" he said, reciting his mother's words from memory.

"And get to the next one," Gregory concluded before he took a sip from his own glass.

"The way she drank, it's a miracle she wasn't an alcoholic," he said, chuckling beneath his breath before an urgent thought consumed him. But, Olivia was. He glanced up sharply, mentally kicking himself. "Sorry, I didn't- that was-"

"Casey, it's fine."

He nodded slowly and he took a deeper – desperate – swallow of the scotch. But, Gregory merely watched him. Calmly. Like he wasn't angry at the perceived insult about his wife. "Are you sur-"

"Do I make you nervous?"

 _Don't be nervous. He's not a bad man._

"A little," he admitted. He watched Gregory's face turn thoughtfully, as if he was considering his reply. "I- I don't really know you."

"And, yet," he began softly, "here you are. In my home. Spending Christmas with my wife and I. With our family."

He nodded and leaned back, stretching out his long legs. He raised the glass and was embarrassed to see it was already empty. "Perhaps I'll make a scotch man out of you yet," he heard Gregory say as he reached for his now-empty glass.

"Perhaps," he agreed, watching as he refilled his glass and turned back to him.

"I asked you in," Gregory said, ignoring his old spot against the desk as he instead took a seat in the armchair next to him, "because there was something I wanted to give you."

He nodded, resisting the nervous urge to drain his second glass dry and ask for a third serving. "Oh?" he asked lamely. He sounded pathetic, he realized to himself as Gregory reached for a wrapped present. He turned back and held it out to him. The glossy wrapping paper shone in the glow from the lamp and he took the surprisingly heavy package from Gregory.

As he awkwardly fumbled with his glass and the present, he heard Gregory say, "You don't know this, but I wasn't close to my own father."

He tucked the glass between his right thigh and the arm of the chair before he wedged his finger into the flap of the wrapping paper. "How come?" he asked. When his only reply was silence, he looked up. Gregory's back was to him as he stood in front of one of the bookcases, staring at a framed photo.

"He was a sadistic bastard," he replied softly as he turned away. "By today's standards, he'd be called 'abusive', but that vocabulary didn't exist in the 50s."

He nodded slowly, his lungs quickly deflating as Gregory's words sunk in. "I…I'm sorry."

Gregory shook his head. "It's nothing for you to apologize for." He cleared his throat and took a sip of his scotch before he continued, "I tell you that so you'll understand why there's no pictures of him. In this office, in this house. _Anywhere_."

He nodded again, confused, as the wrapping paper fell away to reveal a plain cardboard box. He glanced back up at Gregory, who only gazed back at him and said nothing. He pulled off the top of the box and looked inside. Three smaller packages wrapped in tissue paper lay inside and he pulled out the first one. As the thin paper gave way, he saw a gilded frame with a black-and-white photo encased behind the glass. "That's my mother, Evelyn. Your grandmother."

Casey's fingers tightened around the edges as he gazed down at it. His grandmother's megawatt smile burned through the glass as her gaze was directed up to the camera. "How old is she in this?"

"Seventeen," Gregory replied softly as he raised his glass to his lips.

"She- she's beautiful," he gasped over the lump in his throat. He looked up at Gregory, who slowly nodded in agreement.

"It's one of the few photographs I have of her alone, but it's my favorite."

He looked back down at it. It was easy to see why. The photo showed a young and earnest Evelyn, one who had her whole life ahead of her. A young girl who gazed confidently at a spot just out of sight, giving them a perfect three-quarter view of her hopeful face. "What happened to her?" he asked, feeling an ominous twist coming in the face of the young girl with the dark hair and the hint of a dimple in her cheek.

"She died a few weeks after my ninth birthday," he replied softly.

He exhaled deeply. There was still so much he didn't know about Gregory, but hearing this story made him understand his father just a little bit better. "I can see why you named Evy after her," he said softly as he placed it gently in the box and picked up the next package. The tissue paper tore away easily and he sucked in his breath, seeing the next photo. "How? Where did this-"

"You were the ring bearer in our wedding," he explained. Casey leaned forward slightly, examining the photo closely as his hand came to his mouth. He couldn't have been more than three or four in the photo. But, he was wearing a suit and smiling at the camera as Gregory crouched behind him in a tuxedo.

"Mom agreed to that? She knew I was your son and-"

A half-chuckle rose in Gregory's throat. "I think she took pity on Olivia. She- _we_ didn't know anyone else with a son who was the right age we could ask."

That sounded like Alex, who rarely ever said 'no' to her family or friends. "I- I didn't know I was the ring bearer," he stuttered as he looked back at the picture. Gregory's hands were on his shoulders and he was struck by how similar their grins were. Did no one else notice their matching smiles? Or was hindsight allowing him that clarity and realization?

Gregory cleared his throat. "There's one more photo," he said.

He nodded and pulled out the third and final frame. He ripped away the tissue paper, looked down at the photo, and began to chuckle. "I remember when this was taken."

"You do?" He watched as Gregory frowned and leaned over, studying it closely. In the photo, Casey sat next to Caitlin on the top step of the patio stairs with Sean balanced precariously in his lap. "Olivia found it with all our other photos in the attic, but we couldn't remember how it came to be."

"It was after Mom divorced John, so I was 10 or so," he explained as they both looked up, their eyes meeting. "She and I came over to your house because she said Bette, Elaine, and Olivia were having a party for her."

"That was undoubtedly Bette's doing," Gregory explained with a smirk. "She's been known to throw them to celebrate her own divorces."

"No kidding? Anyway, they were out on the patio and us kids were banished to the play room. It was me, Caitlin, Sean, Annie, and Paula." He chuckled. "Paula and I may have been the oldest ones, but Annie was the bossiest. She came up with the idea for all of us to take turns sneaking out to spy on them."

"What _were_ they doing?"

He grinned. "The four of them were doing the same thing Diana and her friends do now. They were kicking back with a few pitchers of margaritas, talking nonstop, laughing, and…and dancing."

* * *

 _February 1983_

Casey crept across the living room and pressed himself against the wall. This was _exactly_ what Han Solo would do if he was here. The space smuggler could be totally stealthy when he needed to be. He gently pulled back the curtains – God, so _many_ layers of curtains – and peered around the edge. Music boomed out of the stereo, but he could hear Mom and her friends over it. He blinked, surprised at what he saw.

 _Everybody's got a hungry heart  
Lay down your money and you play your part  
Everybody's got a hungry heart_

Mom was dancing with Olivia and Bette, the three of them laughing hysterically and singing along with The Boss at the top of their lungs. Geeze! Could they be any more embarrassing? He sighed and backed away from the door. The other moms didn't act like that! Why couldn't they be more like Elaine, who swayed quietly in her chair as she watched them?

He turned away quickly and all but ran back to the play room. Annie, Paula, and Caitlin were still sitting in front of the Atari, their eyes glued to the tv. Paula's tongue poked out from between her lips as she concentrated on controlling the joystick. Three-year-old Sean toddled over to him, seemingly happy to have the only other boy back in the room. He patted his head and plopped down behind the girls. "Well?" Annie asked, though she didn't even turn around.

"They're- they're just gabbing. So lame," he answered quickly as the toddler began to climb up his back. "Is it my turn yet?"

* * *

"Mom and I were the only ones to stay for dinner. Caitlin, Sean, and I were eating pizza on the steps and that's when Mom noticed the sunset," he explained as he looked back up at Gregory. His father's expression was intrigued as he continued, "It was her favorite time to take photos. There's this right time – right before twilight – when the light changes and it gives the photos a glow." He spoke, but it was Mom's words he was speaking. As the only child of an internationally-renowned photographer, he had been gifted with impromptu photography lessons since he was a child. "She grabbed her camera out of the car and…that was that."

Gregory nodded and his eyes flickered to the photo. "There is a glow," he said softly and he nodded too, swallowing hard. The three blonde children beamed up at the camera and Casey shivered, remembering the way Olivia stood behind his mother, trying to get Sean's attention so he looked up long enough.

"Thanks for these. They're- getting them means a lot," he said. Olivia was right. He _did_ belong here. Gregory wanted him here. He was his son. He was Caitlin, Sean, and Evy's brother. He was part of their family.

He nodded. "Where you come from matters," he explained, his voice tight.

He gently nestled the tissue paper back around the photos before he put the box aside. As he stood slowly, he suddenly remembered the letter Mom sent to Gregory. He read it over the phone to him, his voice quiet and low. What did Mom say? Something about a parent's love? " _You_ giving them to me matters more," he whispered honestly as he held out his hand.

Gregory watched him carefully for a long moment before he nodded and reached for his hand. Then, with the memory of the way it felt when Evy pulled him in for a hug, he pulled Gregory's arm in. He felt his father stiffen briefly as his arms went around him, but a moment later, he felt it.

He felt his father hug him back.

THE END.

* * *

 _A/N: The lyrics at the end are from "Hungry Heart" (written by Bruce Springsteen)._


End file.
